


Belle and Beller - An assassin's festival investigation

by Radiklement



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy XV, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Murder Mystery, assassin festival, buddy cop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 05:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12028884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiklement/pseuds/Radiklement
Summary: AU where Cindy and Belle work as partners for the LPD forces. During the Assassin’s festival, something goes horribly wrong and a famous picture hunter is found dead. The crime scene is devoid of conclusive clues and it’s up to the Belles’ duo to shed light on this tragedy. But in a town filled with cosplaying assassins, can they find the real culprit?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a crossover between Once upon a time and Final Fantasy XV. It was a suggestion by a great friend and sounded like fun, so I decided to give it a try. There are hints of other FFs here, mainly VII.

 

Belle and Beller

Chapter 1 – Straw corpse

 

The Assassin’s festival was going to mean extra security and extra work. Detective Cindy Aurum didn’t mind putting out a few extra hours. Heck, she was mostly married to her job. Anything to get away from her scrappy apartment and her senile grandfather. Her uniform fitted snugly against every curve, but for once, her two conspicuously missing buttons and unregulated laced boots were nothing compared to the cosplays every civilian was wearing. Hoods were pulled up, but the city was still warm and the men were showing off just as much as the ladies.

 

Cindy sat in her good old Pontiac firebird, one hand on the wheel, humming a song to herself as she scrolled through Prompto’s latest messages. He was an over-glorified secretary and was always on their radio, giving the calls and alerts at the oddest hour. In a city populated by highly skilled, trained, and well-paid women, Prompto was likely the only man in Lestallum with an actual job. After crumbling apart for years, the Lucis Kingdom had abdicated any ruling rights and each city still standing developed their own system, leaving Lestallum as the City of Sisterly Love.

 

 _I might have just found a place for your gramps…_ the message started.

 

The guy didn’t know when to mind his own business. With a grumble, Cindy deleted it, forcing down the mix of feelings welling up. Anger, frustration, a tad of gratitude too.

 

“Have you been here for a long time?” asked Belle French, Cindy’s partner, as she slipped into the passenger seat.

 

“What took ya?”

 

Belle just smiled, that gentle, nearly coy smile that might have been glued to her face by some spell from the fairy godmother or some other crazy folks from her old Storybrooke town.

 

“Not som’ puppy again?”

 

“I found a lost kid on my way,” Belle objected, not taking the least bit of offense. “I was only doing my duty.”

 

“Ya should have called. I could have given this kid the ride o’ his life.”

 

“In style, huh? I don’t think he would have liked the attent...”

 

The firebird’s engine was already kicking and Cindy put the pedal to the metal, cutting off her partner as she took a sharp turn around their office’s block and down narrower streets. Kids waved at them, knowing the fire decals on that particular modified police car by heart. Everyone felt a lot safer with them around and Cindy was glad she could inspire something good. She’d never admit it though.

 

“Good thing I always strap in before talking to you.” Belle sighed, turning on their radio. “Hey, Prom, unit 13 is on duty as of right now, anything going on?”

 

“If it isn’t my favorite ladies!” Prompto crackled from the other side of the radio. “I was just about to call you. We’ve got some panic around the Square Enix cafe. A guy nearly killed himself taking the leap of faith. Ambulance is on the way.”

 

They heard sirens and Cindy smirked as she spotted the red lights.

 

“Belle, darling, ya’d better hang on. I think I can catch up with our colleagues.”

 

Their car swerved before it dove into an alleyway that no sane driver would approach. Belle steadied herself and took out her notebook to quickly scribble down a few notes. She’d never been around sane people, and Cindy’s quirks had always made it possible for them to help people faster, so she didn’t mind the regular crazy rides.

 

“Careful of the… cosplayers.”

 

“Whoa, check out that crowd!” Cindy marveled.

 

Thankfully, the ambulance had cleared a way down to the scene. Cindy parked their car, tires barely screeching despite the sudden shift in speed. Belle stepped out first, one hand on her holster as she hurried to catch up with the paramedic. Her partner was hot on her heels, face darkening as she noticed who had answered the call. Emma Swan was there, with her own partner, Ardyn Izunia. Those two were efficient healers—Ardyn, an expert in magic; Swan, his apprentice, already sporting incredible skills when it came to dress a wound. Belle and Swan came from the same town and had never gotten along.

 

“Miss French,” said Swan in her usual stiff manner.

 

“Swan,” Belle nodded. “Can we interrogate the victim while you check him for wounds?” she retorted, voice cold, eyes distant.

 

Her smile was nearly gone and Cindy wondered if she’d ever learn what could fuel any hatred from someone as gentle as her partner. Said victim was sitting down, waiters from the SE cafe trying to keep the curious bystanders from crowding him. The man had blood trickling down his temple, blue eyes and teeth whiter than a summer’s cloud. His assassin’s clothes were covered with straws and a few blood stains that made Belle frown with worry.

 

“Cin, can you take care of clearing the crowd?” she asked her partner.

  
“Sure thing.”

 

Izunia let Swan take the lead, inspecting the haystack waiting below the tower attraction from which people could jump off. He knew better than to touch anything no matter how curious he felt. Belle walked up to the wounded man, who looked a lot more familiar as she knelt next to him.

 

“Where did you hit your head?” Emma asked him.

 

“There was something in that stupid haystack,” he groaned. “Ouch!”

 

“I need to disinfect the wound, sir.”

 

“Give a man some warning,” the victim said with a wince.

 

Belle cleared her throat. “Sir, I’m detective French. I need to ask you a few questions. Let’s start with your name.”

 

“David Charming,” he shot back.

 

Belle struggled to remember why that name even felt familiar. Sadly, there were a lot of things she’d forgotten from her past. She had _him_ to blame for it, of course. Repressing memories and losing a few was almost a gift, but she didn’t want it to backfire.

 

“Charming? Really?” Emma repeated.

 

“Do your job, Swan,” Belle ordered her before turning her full attention to David. “That blood on your shirt—it isn’t yours?”

 

There wasn’t enough for it to be his, but the detective wanted to see his reaction. Charming looked down at himself and grimaced.

 

“I knew we shouldn’t have come here. I really need to go find my girlfriend, lady. She has to be worried sick about me...”

 

“You’re going to stay here until you’re patched up and my colleague and I have inspected this haystack.”

 

Cindy was done with dispatching the bystanders and had ordered the cafe staff to keep the place quiet until further notice. Both detectives met up by the haystack and it was the blond woman who carefully tossed aside a handful of hay. And three more. The straws of hay turned red by the fourth handful and a pointy dagger’s handle became visible, deeply embedded inside a human body.

 

“Fu...”

 

“No curses on the job,” Belle warned.

 

“I was goin’ ta say fudgy cakes.”

 

Belle brushed more hay aside, revealing a livid face with puffy cheeks and skin still covered in a cold sweat.

 

“Ain’t this the worst place to hide a body?” Cindy commented.

 

“But isn’t this the best time to play assassin? I knew I should have taken my day off.”

 

The festival was going to last a dozen more days yet, so having a day off or not wouldn’t change anything about their investigation.

 

“You think we can get him out of there?” Belle asked.

 

“With his size?! Better knock down his haystack first. I don’t know how these things even cushion a fall.”

 

“Not stacked high enough to your liking, huh?”

 

“I dare ya ta say ya’d take that leap o’ faith,” Cindy insisted.

 

“To land on this hilt?”

 

…

 

After a half hour, they had extracted the man’s wallet and cellphone from his pant pockets. It was around then that reinforcements joined them on the scene to cordon off the area. Charming had made his statement and would provide a follow-up next morning at the precinct. Ardyn had voiced his opinion about the cause of death, but Belle preferred to wait for the coroner’s report.

 

“Vyv Giancarlo Labata: 33 years old, Lucional Geographic’s manager,” Belle stated as she scribbled in her notepad.

 

“Never read that thing,” said Cindy. “Bunch of pictures ain’t it? I think Argentum sold him some shots from his own collection las’ month.”

 

“No cash left in his wallet, not a single debit or credit card either,” Belle noted.

 

To make matters worse, his phone screen was cracked and the thing refused to work no matter what Cindy tried. Their clues so far consisted of a stabbed man, the hilt of a dagger that could have been sold by any itinerant weapon vendor, lots of hay, and no witness. Belle had started interrogating the café workers, hoping she’d gather a list of any recent clients. Knowing the whereabouts or even the identity of anyone during this festival was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

 

“Not funny, Aurum,” Cindy warned herself, dismissing the curious Ardyn and cautioning her team to carefully handle the haystack. “I want the content of this wooden crate entirely examined. Anything could help us here.”

 

“Anything” turned out to be a small piece of green plastic, a few watches, one earring and an assassin hood. The last item was in pretty bad shape. First inspection revealed nothing conclusive. The Chief had ordered every haystack checked around the city and the same lost items turned up most of the time. Except for one hiding a frolicking couple. Prompto hadn’t stopped jabbering about it for the entire lunch period, while Belle went over their potential witness list. Cindy had spent an hour on the phone trying to get something on the Lucional Geographic’s magazine.

 

Since he was a tech wiz, Prompto was tasked with collecting information on the broken phone. Despite the theft theory Chief Jasmine had voiced when both detectives reported their first findings, both women had a suspicion this case was deeper.

 

Giancarlo had been standing in the middle of the street, his back to the SE café one instant. The manager answered a customer and couldn’t see the gelatinous man when he looked back in his direction. He’d guessed the guy had gone for a walk or a bounce elsewhere. But according to Giancarlo’s distressed fiancée, the man didn’t like to move unnecessarily. He would sweat bullets quite easily and he was fearful of losing his adorable little love handles. Their only contact with the fiancée was a phone call. They would see her in the afternoon at the morgue.

 

“Iggy’s autopsy will be done in two hours,” Cindy sighed. “The LG’s office is downtown. Feel up for some more investigation, pardner?”

 

Belle nodded. They couldn’t believe in a simple robbery gone wrong. Vyv wasn’t the type to carry much cash on him, and the assailant couldn’t have dragged him all the way to the crime scene. There was no trace of blood and the bottom hay was stained scarlet red.

 

“A man this size wouldn’t be easy to carry around,” Belle commented as the car sped down the street.

 

“And I doubt there was a struggle,” Cindy noted. “Although this _Charming_ guy has tampered with our crime scene.”

 

“Do you think Giancarlo could have been pushed down from the tower after getting stabbed?” Belle suggested.

 

Cindy snickered. She liked her partner, but sometimes, the girl had crazy theories. “And no one saw it? No one reported it before another guy jumped? This leap o’ faith is the biggest attraction around.”

 

Belle pursed her lips as she mused at the many possible explanations. Lestallum’s streets slowly changed, bright neon lights switching to crude colors, fumes and vapors filtering the view. Cindy was forced to slow down. The first notes of some corny, old love song chimed in their car prompting Belle to quickly check her texts.

 

“Prompto’s salvaged our vic’s phone. Want the intel?” Belle asked, even though she knew the answer.

 

“Shoot.”

 

Belle scrolled down the mail. “Contacts data were wiped out, but there are hundreds of pictures in there. It might take a few days to sort through them.”

 

“Our desk boy might as well check those pics. What else does he do except making coffee for Jaz?” Cindy kidded around.

 

“You should give him more credit. He makes coffee for you too. And…”

 

Cindy cut her off, parking their patrol car so close to the sidewalk, Belle was nearly afraid of opening her door and having it grazing the concrete.

 

“Let’s focus on this case, Belle. Anything else?”

 

“Well, Giancarlo has no relatives outside of his fiancée. Who, by the way, seems far too young for him.”

 

“Sugar daddy,” Cindy clicked her tongue.

 

“I hope we can find something at his office. Prompto says the contact number he had for Giancarlo was the same as the broken phone.”

Belle’s hopes collapsed with the first look at the office. It sat between two metal structures, a haphazard mix of glass and concrete. Every block on this street had strips in its materials, likely squished closer together with Lestallum’s development. Ever-growing, the city’s heart was slowly falling apart, bleeding out into his numerous arteries.

 

A single sign with a bold L and a shier G confirmed they’d found the right place. The front door was unlocked and the lobby littered with pieces of paper and notebooks. The paintings and posters were ripped off the walls or left askew. Someone had been searching the place, running through it like a cyclone.

 

“So I guess our killer was after his keys, not his money,” Bell stated, keeping her voice low.

  
The small office was dead quiet and the single room past the lobby was void of movement. A side door led to the bathroom, which reeked of a foul, sour odor despite a dozen scenting herbs tied to its ceiling.

  
“Did we miss something? Any way out?” Cindy asked her partner.

  
Belle was already focusing on the missing computers and lonely screens on the two desks. She noticed a single frame where a sexy barmaid posed, dressed like a bee and holding a platter of cocktails.

  
“I can't believe this guy. If this is his fiancée…” she uttered, eying the picture.

  
Cindy took a long hard look at their surroundings, assessing what the place looked like before the “break in”.

 

_*_

Pins used to keep a few checklists to the walls. She picked one up, reading the “Items of Interest”. It seemed their dead guy had been looking for new pictures:

  
_-Cat hanging in front of the Leville sign_

_-That guy looking down on people_

_-The legendary Malboro leaving down the sewers of Lestallum_

_-Red chocobo, wild and mystic creature spotted recently by the farms_

_-Cancan girls_

_-Two other cats_

 

And the list went on with the reasonable and less reasonable prices the guy was willing to pay.

  
“Shit, that man had some heavy money to throw around!” Cindy declared with a whistle.

  
“And it seems he worked alone. Or maybe all his contacts and associates were stored on his phone. There's nothing in any of these...”  
  
Belle was interrupted by a violent crash and both women looked up to the back window, which was the only current source of light in the office. A shadow went up the window, followed by a larger one letting out a loud curse. At that point, Cindy noticed that the window served as a fire escape. A wire hit the window and left a scratch.

 

“How much are you ready to bet these are our computer thieves?”

 

It was a race between the two partners to get at the window first—a race Belle won, much to Cindy’s shock. It was a matter of seconds for the glass to lift, Belle jumping onto the shaky railing and immediately spotting two cosplayers running up the ladder to escape via the roof. They were slowed down by heavy equipment, suspiciously similar to a pair of computers. Belle went over the lader two bars at a time. The presumed thieves were already crossing over some pipes to the building across the street, in pure assassin’s festival fashion. Belle was hot on their trail—Cindy keeping up, never one to back down on a challenge.

 

“Running from us is no use, guys!” Belle called after them.

 

“LPD! We only have a few questions,” Cindy added, accentuating the badge that was pinned to her low collar as she walked over the pipes.

 

Knowing they were three stories high was enough for Cindy’s stomach to tumble and protest as she focused on Belle’s wavy hair in front of her. She was starting to regret her burritos’ lunch. If only Belle didn’t bring some every two days! When her feet hit the other roof, she fell into a run, noticing how the guys were taking longer steps and gaining distance.

 

Belle was mentally naming every detail she could gather about them. One tall and lean; one larger, with a definite limp to the right. These guys didn’t need to exchange a single word to decide on their next step. They walked and ran with purpose, kicking at boxes and metal containers to slow down their pursuers. Luckily, the rooftops formed a maze, and civilians weren’t allowed on these parts outside of the festival. Cindy had one or two complaints to file with security once they got back to the good old ground.

 

Belle was slowly catching up with them and managed to grab a cape, yanking back the larger runner. He coughed and nearly tripped on his feet, turning on himself in a desperate attempt to find his balance. A flurry of fur ran by, dark with white spots, scared by getting his card box kicked. Cindy didn’t have time to warn her partner. For an instant, Belle could see with clarity a hairy torso and one muscled arm hit her across the waist. A cat meowed in pain, hitting her back legs. With another twirl, the hooded man was free from Belle’s grasp, while she fell on the metal railing by the edge of the roof.

 

Metal cringed and bent, weakened by years of rain and being blown around by the strong wings. Time slowed down as Cindy saw the railing pulling at his hinges, Belle hanging precariously over the street. Cars were driving by—people enjoying the festival, ignorant of the danger right above their heads.

 

“Oh my…” Cindy started.

 

“Serves you right, …” the leaner guy called over his shoulder, using a word that didn’t offend both detectives quite equally.

 

Belle saw the hesitation on Cindy’s face. The metal cringed a little more. The concrete was starting to crack and the echoes of the thieves’ footsteps grew fainter.

 

“Go after them, Cin.”

 

“Ya can’t be…”

 

“Go before we lose our biggest lead!”

 

Her hasty arm movement aimed to point after them was enough to send Belle and her lifeline of metal down. Cindy rushed to the edge of the roof, culprits and investigation nearly forgotten. The railing collided with the pavement, car tires screeching as drivers hit the brakes. Belle should have been lying on the concrete too, broken and bloodied, but Cindy couldn’t find her. The scream stuck in her lungs was eating her alive and she tried to control her voice as she called out.

 

“Belle?!”

 

She was blinking madly, trying to analyze everything on the street, and spotted a lone haystack, its contents moving around. One hand parted the hay to wave at her.

 

“I’m here!” Belle called back.

 

Cindy threw a glance over her shoulder. The cosplaying thieves were out of sight. They needed to return to that magazine office to search for clues. She located a ladder and got back down, helping Belle out of her haystack.

 

“Nothing pointy in that one?” Cindy asked her.

 

“I’m fine as rain,” Belle retorted, trying to get the hay out of her hair. Cindy helped her, holding back a sigh at the idea they could have sent one of those guys into the haystack if they’d checked the street a little closer.

 

“Ya know I can’t let yar pretty face get hurt now. DP would get mad at me for not being extra careful with his sugarplum…”

 

Belle had the decency to blush and immediately tried to change the subject. “I noticed something on limp-guy. There was a tattoo on the inside of his wrist. Looked like a sword.”

 

“Oh, now that’s something interesting. Let’s head back to Giancarlo’s office, gather what we can and get to the morgue. We have a lil’ less than an hour before Iggy calls us.”

 

As though to prove her wrong, her phone rang then. It was the precinct.

 

“What is it, desk-boy?”

 

She could nearly picture Prompto blushing as he sat a bit straighter behind his desk. He hated when she called him that, but still got flustered from the small, personal attention hiding behind the nickname.

 

“We’ve got another corpse,” he told her, sounding as detached as possible. “It was found in an abandoned apartment by some kids playing around. The Chief wants you to check on it now.”

 

The news took away her brief elation at the idea they’d made some progress.

 

“Something wrong with this one?”

 

“It’s a kid. And it’s ugly,” Prompto stated.

 

“What’s the world coming to…” Cindy sighed.

 

“I’m on my way there actually. Jaz think I could help with the other kids. I’ve sent you the address by text earlier, but you never answered.”

 

“I was busy running after thieves on a rooftop,” Cindy defended herself.

 

“You always get all the fun.”

 

She wasn’t so sure about that, but being a cop wasn’t supposed to be easy.

 

“I think for once, we’ll have Iggy wait on us. We’ll be bringing him more work before the end of the day,” Cindy told Belle.

 

“Another one? Could they be related?”

 

“I don’t know which option would be better. But this assassin’s festival is starting to feel like a bad joke.”

 

Belle stretched her limbs, making sure nothing was broken and observed with a forced smile. “At least, those haystacks aren’t only useful to hide bodies…”

 

Poor attempt, but Cindy smiled back.

 

“Get in the car, hay-girl.”

 

One more crime to solve. It was just another day in good ol’ Lestallum for the Belles of the LPD forces.

 

To be continued…

 


	2. Cat's in the bag, baby in the fridge

 

“It’s okay, everyone. We won’t have to wait here for much longer,” Mary-Margaret told the scared children.

“I’m scared, miss Snow,” Gretel stammered.

“I know, sweetheart,” the raven-haired beauty acknowledged. “But we must hang around for a little longer so the officers can do their job. We all want to help, don’t we?”

The two boys and two girls nodded, sniffling or shivering in their assassin’s cosplays. The festivities were entirely lost on them. Mary-Margaret deflated a little more and gathered them close, kneeling on the concrete to be at eye-level with them and comfort them as best as she could.

A tall security guard stood by the door of the vacant apartment behind which was lying the small body, already covered with a sheet. Security cordons had been drawn around the area and Jasmine was impatiently waiting for her top detectives to arrive.

Her mascara had left dark stains across her face, which told Belle her boss had cried after seeing the body. Again. 

It was a real mystery how she’d managed to attain the rank of chief with her kind attitude and teary tendency. But nevertheless, she was the boss. Belle walked up to her with Cindy close on her heels. Prompto was parking his own car in the adjacent street and ran up to them, face a little paler than usual.

“It’s good you’re all here,” Jasmine declared before giving her first orders. “Argentum—I want you to take the kids’ depositions. This ‘Blanchard’ lady is their teacher and was chaperoning them when one of the students made the macabre discovery. I asked her to stay here with the children for the time being. The vic wasn’t one of hers, but this is still a fresh kill.”

Jasmine took a few seconds to collect herself, her dark eyes drifting to the sheet on the small body. She would always get worse when the victims were younger.

“Aurum, French—I kept the scene untouched for you to inspect before we send him to the morgue. I’ll be interrogating the teacher.”

They all got to work. It was their second murder case in a single day and it was clear their chief wasn’t taking the occurrence lightly. Cindy and Belle waited until Prompto and Jasmine had taken the children further away to uncover the scene, knowing their coworkers would share any pertinent information with them to piece things together once they were back at the precinct. The onsite officer brought them up to speed.

“The kid was found by one of the girls half an hour ago,” he started. “They’d seen adults hide in the unused apartments to play pranks on each other and apparently wanted to imitate them. Turned out someone else had already hidden him here.”

Cindy lifted the sheet, discovering disheveled and torn up clothes on a thin frame that was covered with bruises and even a few burns. The boy had light brown hair and was pretty thin. His slender frame was clad in worn out rags for clothes.

“He’s in our files. Talcott Hester: living on the streets after running away from children services. He would have turned 14 in a few months.”

Belle held her breath as she surmised the damages inflicted to the boy. He had broken fingers, bruises all over, and his head was lying at a strange angle. Neck surely broken. Pain written all over his face, the boy lied in a puddle of his own blood. His shirt was mostly gone, revealing a pale torso and nasty bruising.

“Either this kid went after a local gang and was turned into an example,” Cindy started, “or some sick bastard tried to have fun with him.”

There was also the possibility of him selling his services to any bidder with things taking a nasty turn. Belle’s face was dark and she refused to share any theory about the case, instead kneeling by the body and searching his pockets as carefully as possible. She put on her pair of investigation gloves and collected a broken figurine out of one of the boy’s pockets.

The plastic was green and of fine quality, details engraved all over it. A rounded head with black dots for eyes and mouth hit the ground as Belle tried to angle her find in Cindy’s direction.

“Isn’t that one of those cactuar collectibles?” Belle asked.

“Ya’re right, pardner. It’s all the rage with kids. Must have been the most prized possession of that boy.”

It still seemed peculiar for a street urchin to collect such a thing. But the boy might have stolen it for resale on the black market. Unless he was working toward the goal of getting off the streets all by himself. Belle had been lost at a time and couldn’t help but wonder about the dreams this boy had—dreams that were shattered out of anger or pure cruelty.

“Neck snapped and bruised all over,” Cindy sighed. “His jaw looks unset, too. He clearly fought back, whatever was expected from him. What’s on his wrists?”

Belle looked down the boy’s arms, noticing the dark red marks marring the flesh. Rope burns.

“He was tied up,” she confirmed, raising one leg of his pants to verify. “Wrists and ankles tied tightly enough to draw blood,” she pointed out.

“Poor kid. Nothing else on him?”

A brief inspection revealed nothing and they knew their best chance was to wait for Ignis’ report on this case.

“Did ya already ask around to find people who knew Talcott?” Cindy asked their fellow officer.

The man nodded. The clean-up crew was arriving, ready to prepare the body for transport, and both detectives reconvened with their colleagues. Prompto had managed to get a smile from every kid and even their teacher, while Jasmine had collected enough information to declare herself satisfied.

“Officer Jenkins will escort you back to your car, miss Blanchard. Do try to be careful for the rest of the festival.”

“We will, Chief Shirin.”

Once the kids were far enough, all eyes converged to Jasmine.

“This is a sordid affair, but I don’t think these two murders are related. Unless you’ve found something I missed on Talcott Hester.”

Cindy shook her head, but was surprised to see Prompto frowning. It took him a lot of courage to join in the conversation, seeing as he was more of a secretary than a full-fledged detective.

“I did sell a few pictures to the first victim for his magazine. Whenever I couldn’t meet him in person to deliver the pics, I remember this kid acting as the delivery boy. He was Giancarlo’s errand boy from what I’ve gathered.”

Belle crossed her arms over her chest, shaken by the idea of even more potential murders. If it had something to do with the Lucional Geographic, who could say how many were at risk? She’d never seen anyone actually reading one issue of that thing, but… She was afraid of learning how many more people could be involved in this.

“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?” Jasmine asked him.

“I barely got a glimpse of the body and didn’t know the boy’s name until now. How did you want me to know…?” Prompto defended himself.

“No need to get yar undies in a twist, guys,” Cindy cut in. “Desk boy has insight on this case. We’ll talk it over after meeting with Scientia.”

Belle rolled her eyes at the nickname while the Chief reminded Cindy of how she wanted professionalism when they were among civilians.

“You owe more respect to Argentum. Without him keeping the paperwork up-to-date, you two would be without a job in a matter of days. Not to mention all the infractions he must cover for you.”

Prompto hurried to his car, whistling innocently while Cindy blushed. Belle seemed ready to object and say that her paperwork was flawless, but it was true that Prompto went over some of her reports to have them match Cindy’s surprisingly _impeccable_ attitude.

“Since you know it, I guess you don’t mind,” Cindy declared, puffing out her chest as though to remind her chief it wasn’t her only violation of the rules.

“As long as you get me results. We have bodies piling up at the moment, so you’d better get on with this investigation. Don’t let either trails get cold,” Jasmine ordered before she turned on heel to reach her own car.

…

Belle and Cindy hurried to the morgue after quickly inspecting the apartment where Talcott’s body had been found. They kept the cactuar figurine—Belle quickly remembering where they were sold.

“It’s an exclusive item from Exineris’ campaign. That stuffed cat robot sells them in front of their main office. You remember, Cin?”

“Didn’t DP buy you one?” her partner retorted. “A _RED_ Cactuar. As if those exist!”

“He made it himself. It looks nothing like the real deal, but it’s the thought that counts,” Belle stated with a brief smile.

That smile left her entirely as they entered Scientia’s domain. The man had OCD and kept the place in a sterile clean state which rivaled hospitals all over the country. If anything, the living weren’t as clean as the dead. Cindy felt a brief pang of sadness as they passed by the visitor’s room. There were around 20 bodies waiting in the fridge every week, either to be cremated, identified by family members or exposed during funerals. Half the bodies were hunters, but there were a lot of crimes around Lucis, with the change in political regimen and all. She still wondered if her Paw-Paw would find himself here. It was getting a little closer every day. She half dreaded, half wished for it, not knowing how to live with herself knowing how heartless that was. The thoughts were quickly pushed away, as the coroner’s assistant welcomed them in the first examination room.

Too young for this job, but disillusioned after being forced to flee her hometown, Iris Accordo was the clumsiest girl either of the detectives had met. It was a miracle the place hadn’t been set on fire once this year. Ignis kept her around mostly because she was really soothing for the loved ones forced to identify a dead person.

“They just wheeled in the kid. I hope no one else dies today…” the teenage girl whispered.

She nervously straightened her lab coat and sent a few beakers flying off the nearby table, jumping at the crash of glasses on the linoleum floor. Ignis was turning his back on them, finishing his report on his computer, not even flinching at the noise.

“Don’t pick them up with your bare hands this time,” he cautioned his assistant.

“Ye… yes, sir,” Iris said, clearly disappointed with herself for causing him more trouble.

The body of Vyv Giancarlo Labata lay on the examination table, the _Y_ shaped cuts and sewings perfectly symmetrical across his chest. Belle stayed a few steps away, while Cindy walked up to Ignis’ desk, leaning down to read over his shoulder. The man sprang to his feet and shut down his screen. He turned around to face his visitors, glaring at Cindy until she lifted her hand from the back of his seat.

“Our first victim died of a severe stab wound,” Ignis started. “The internal damages show ruptured arteries, a pierced lung and the highest cholesterol I’ve seen in the last decade,” he went on.

Cindy opened her mouth to mention he was too young to have worked here for even five years, but her partner was quicker and to the point.

“Can you tell if any fractures he had are due to a struggle with his assailant?” Belle inquired.

Ignis shook his head.

“Those fractures were most certainly caused by Charming dropping on him with that leap of faith,” he observed, his voice hinting at disgust as he finished. He’d never approved of the assassin’s festival. “Giancarlo here must have known and trusted his attacker. The strike was sure and unexpected. Whoever did this was practiced and knew where to strike with lethal precision despite all the blubber in his way.”

Scientia had a way to coldly state things sometimes that made even Cindy a little queasy. Iris dropped the platter of glass shards she’d collected and apologized profusely, not aware that the distraction had removed some of the tension in the room.

“Anything else you’ve noticed?” Belle asked.

“The man’s fiancée is… a bit eccentric. She’s waiting for you in the visitors’ room. She identified immediately. If I have to hear one more fake sob from her, I might just faint,” Ignis concluded, dead serious as always.

“Fake?” Cindy repeated. “Iris, would ya say…?”

“Just ask her the questions you need answered and get her out of here,” Iris pleaded with them, before adding in a whisper: “Iggy’s been impossible to work with after she tackled him into a hug for comfort. He refused to go anywhere near the visitor’s room. I had to make six cups of coffee for her since she got here.”

“Six?” Belle mused.

“She dropped half of them,” Ignis explained, not even looking up from the file he was going through.

Belle and Cindy were apprehensive as they entered the visitor’s room. The young woman waiting for them was wearing fishnet stockings over her legs and arms, with a tight corset and a shimmering skirt. The colors were bright and sharp, far from the attire of a grieving fiancée. Belle held her notebook a bit tighter while her partner broke the ice.

“Miss Talula... Gibbons,” Cindy marked a definitive pause as she processed the name she read off her notepad. “Detective Aurum and detective French, we’re sorry for what happened to yar fiancé…”

“Oh, my poor puff of love! I hope you find out who could be mean enough to hurt a dear like him. He was the most generous man in the world!”

From the jewels she wore, which twinkled and kept clicking together, it was clear Giancarlo was the kind to cover his girl with gifts. It was a little too much for either detective’s tastes, but they grabbed a seat and went on with their interrogation. Like always, Belle took up the role of the good cop, while Cindy turned out more aggressive in her line of questioning.

“How long have you known Giancarlo?”

Talula made a pout as she thought it over, raising her perfectly manicured fingers one by one.

“We met 7 months ago,” she stated. “His charms really grew on me in the first few weeks and then he proposed. It was five months ago. We’ve been so happy ever since. It was gift after gift after gift with him! I was the most spoiled girl of Lestallum! He gave me this wonderful ring, too,” she went on, showing off the gigantic stone on her ring finger. “But my poor Giani love bear won’t be around anymore. I don’t know why I even still wear it.”

A lonely tear ran down her face, miraculously sparing her make-up. Cindy wondered if it was tattooed make-up or something. While the tanned detective was careful of her appearance, she never cared much for make-up. She preferred to flaunt her natural assets.

“I feel so cold already! You know, he was the warmest...”

Belle cut her off, assuring Talula they didn’t need to get into this sort of details.

“Where did you two first meet? Was it at your workplace? The… _Honey Bee Inn_?”

Talula nodded, her blond curls jumping up and down with the waves of hair looking like something out of a shampoo commercial.

“Was he a usual customer at your inn?”

“My sweet potato was a regular. He liked the massage table and would always give me a little something after his visit.”

“Would ya say yar fiancé had any enemies?” Cindy asked.

The question took Talula by surprise and she turned two shades paler, before stammering, “I don’t know anyone that could have disliked him enough for… anything so horrible.”

She covered her face with her hands, causing Cindy to lose all patience.

“Did ya know the guy well enough to be sure of what ya’re saying, gal?” the detective demanded, hand hitting the desk next to her hard enough  to make the call girl jump in her chair.

“We were about to move in together, but it was still pretty new,” Talula admitted. “Giani-dear was working on expanding LG and I hadn’t given up on my job yet. I think it was good thinking on my part, considering...” she sighed, dropping her hands in her lap, shoulder hunching down, her jewels clinking together at the movement.

Belle had already confirmed her alibi with a few discreet texts and doubted they could get much more out of the girl.

“This expansion of his magazine,” Detective French started, “do you know what it entailed? Did he have any contact he was supposed to meet soon?”

“He was really discreet about his work. My sugar pop didn’t want me to worry about that complicated stuff. Last he told me, he was looking for new investors.”

“Anything more?” Belle pressed.

The younger woman pondered a moment. She looked quite collected for someone who could start crying in the blink of an eye. The partners exchanged a look, both wondering if they shouldn’t try following another lead.

“Giani was supposed to meet one tonight at the bar in the locked room. I don’t think the meeting was called off. You could always hang around to try and meet the man. I’m sure the boss would let you in,” Talula added, sizing them up.

Cindy nearly pumped her fist in the air while Belle defensively crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn’t sure she liked where this was going, even if their investigation was slowly advancing.

“Now ya’re talking! We’ll meet up with ya at the inn one hour before that appointment.”

It was quickly settled and Belle waited until the fancy fiancée walked out to voice a few concerns.

“I know why we’re following this lead, but I don’t think we’re onto something. We need those stolen computers…”

“Something doesn’t add up, Belle. Ya have to admit it too,” Cindy objected. “Our vic was able to throw around all the money he wanted to collect pictures of mountains and cats. 300,000 gil for a pile of rocks. Why would he need to look for investors? And why can’t we find a single issue of his magazine? Even his fiancée can’t give us one.”

“I know we’re missing something, but it’s more than that. If this guy had this much money and covered Talula with all that gold and silver, why was he in normal clothes, keeping such a small office?” Belle went on.

Throwing questions at each other had always helped them think and was part of their investigating process.

“And why kill his errand boy?” Prompto chimed in, holding up a file as he walked in.

“Argentum! Did the precinct burn down? I’ve never seen ya walking around so much,” Cindy exclaimed.

She was hoping to see his smile. Their secretary was also the precinct’s ray of sunshine and the gloom in his features wasn’t helping the bad feeling she had about this whole case. They’d been on it all day long and there were already two cadavers on their hands.

“You two were taking an awfully long time to come by and the Chief suspected you might skip the office to run after the latest clue you’d found, so she had me passing by to drop this off. Here’s all I could gather on Talcott.”

“Nothing confidential here, I gather?” Belle asked.

“Do I ever not follow the rules? It’s almost five, but you two look like you have more on your plate,” Prompto deduced from the small spark in Cindy’s eyes.

“Speaking of plate, we should grab a bite before to meet up with Gibbons.”

The Belles convinced him to join them for a quick dinner, needing a break from their murder investigations. They sat down at a round table across the Tostwell Grill, Belle remaining silent for the most part, deep in thought. Cindy and Prompto were trying to cheer each other up, still testing the waters when it came to their relationship. Prompto was the most understanding man either of them knew, almost always reading the mood and knowing when to talk and when to stay quiet. They were careful of not mentioning a case, Prompto showcasing a few pictures of the festival he’d snapped last night.

“I can’t believe you made your own cosplay when they rent them all for free during the festival,” Cindy laughed.

“But this way, my costume is different from everyone else’s. Iggy even said I should enter the cosplay contest with it,” Prompto explained, sounding a tad too enthusiastic at the prospect.

One can’t always hide his own geekiness.

“You should have taken some pics with you wearing it.”

“So you can laugh at my puny arms?”

“Show them here!” Cindy nearly ordered, her laugh not far behind.

Belle started to smile, only to freeze in place when a pair of men hit a table to their left, sending dishes and festival goers flying. The two men had started an all-out brawl and didn’t seem to care who might be involved in their fight.

Cindy jumped to her feet, darting forward. Belle instantly rose behind Cindy, while Prompto quickly made sure that the Grill’s other customers had cleared out a perimeter around the fighters.

The streets were so filled with activities, that it was hard for the people to scatter and, as always with human society, groups of curious passersby grew. The largest assassin’s cosplayer punched the one dressed in a dark version of the costume, sending him into Cindy’s legs. The detective barely kept her balance and raised her badge, opening her mouth to break off the fight, only to be interrupted by the brawler at her feet.

“This is not how an assassin… fights!” the boy shouted, rolling to his feet and rushing his opponent.

His hood fell down, revealing dark raven hair and a childish face, despite the guy being close to his twenties from Belle’s estimation. He kicked the older man in the stomach, moving with definite grace and intent. He planted an elbow in the guy’s ribs and followed with a forearm blow that entirely knocked the air out of the man’s lungs. The white assassin cosplayer could hardly breathe, but he still lunged at the boy, clapping his hands on each side of his head.

“Knock it off! LPD! You hotheads let go of each other right now!” Cindy shouted.

The white assassin dropped to his knees, while the black assassin held his ears, head ringing from the double slap. Belle pulled him back by the hood of his costume, with Prompto stepping in to hold him down if he tried to jump back into the fray.

“Ya two are under arrest for breaking public an’ private property, potential injury of civilians, an’ causing a disturbance in public. I hope ya’re not drunk on top of it all.”

The white assassin was still groggy from the multiple hits and wheezed in protest, while Belle cuffed the dark assassin cosplayer. Cindy was quick to cuff the older man, yelling at the circle of people staring that they’d better find a real spectacle to watch.

“What’s the deal with you two? Lost a bet?” Belle asked as they walked them to a quieter piece of the city. Prompto stayed behind to help the waiters with the damage, also readying himself to file the proprietor’s complaints about the incident.

“That man tried to break into my house!”

“That boy is a lunatic! I was just walking by!”

“Can it, both of ya. If someone breaks into yar house, ya don’t provoke him into a fight! Ya’d better have some ID on ya.”

Belle searched the younger guy without a word, quickly finding a wallet and his ID cards. It turned out to be Noctis Caelum, a 17-year-old teen living on the other side of Main Street.

The other man, who refused to identify as anything other than “Drautos,” had no papers on him and had a few marks on his right arm which looked too recent for comfort. A mix of bruises and cuts.

“Was that your doing, Caelum?”

“You’re supposed to read me my rights before making assumptions. I asked him what he was doing with my door, he insulted me and things escalated from there.”

“Escalated? How many fights did you start?!” Belle exclaimed.

It sounded far too usual for the under-age cosplayer.

“And what’s the deal with this one, assaulting a minor.”

“It was self-defense,” Drautos objected.

“We’re taking your self-defense back to the precinct,” Cindy warned, dragging him to her car.

A moment later, they confirmed the collection of street camera data by Prompto and left the Chief take over this new case to head down to the Honey Bee Inn.

“Did we pay for our dinner?” Belle wondered out loud.

“Prompto took care of it for us. Said you could pay him back with lunch tomorrow.”

“How are _you_ paying him back?”

“Well, if he wants some points with me, he’d better not hope for money. Our salaries aren’t that different from a desk boy’s,” Cindy reminded her, taking a harsh swerve for no apparent reason.

There was something on her mind and Belle was ready to bet it had nothing to do with their colleague. Their patrol car’s clock stated half past seven, which was a lot later than Cindy’s usual check on her grandfather.

“If you want to swing by your place first…”

“The meeting is at 8:00 sharp. I ain’t gonna be late for my first shift on the job.”

The joke sounded too fake, but Belle was left to doubt when fifteen minutes later, Cindy refused to walk out of the door before bringing a few changes to her maid outfit. Her skirt was a few inches shorter than Belle’s attire, and she sported a plunging v neckline going a bit further down than her apron. She’d even replaced her bee’s antennas with a tiny top hat with even tinier antennas. Her four-inch heeled boots were transparent, reaching up to mid-thigh.

“Those shoes are a joke, right?” Belle couldn’t help but ask.

The plastic was clear, but kept reflecting any light it caught and the effect wasn’t all that pleasing.

“They’re the latest trend!” Talula shot back, sounding offended that the other woman didn’t gush over the boots.

“I’m only taking a photo of the top half for Prompto anyway.”

“Cindy!” Belle whispered, giving her a playful smack on the arm.

“What? The guy is putting up with those two bozos back at the precinct. Might as well see one good thing during his day.”

The clock ticked on the wall and Talula ushered them to the locked room where “fantasies could become real” according to the panel hanging over the door. Belle didn’t like being in such a place and was reassured to find a small room with a table set in a corner, a small stage for the main attraction, and a pile of costumes lying in a corner—all waiting for a temporary owner. She didn’t like the look the patrons were giving her, despite wearing all the make-up Talula had insisted on applying. Her skin seemed one inch thicker.

A single man was standing in the room, right in the middle of the stage, turning his back on the door and talking to himself in a monologue. His voice sounded familiar, but it was impossible to tell his identity, since he was wearing his own assassin’s cosplay, clothes red and black, a smiley face drawn on the back of his hood.

“Carlo, Carlo, you made a mistake.... standing me up tonight. But that wouldn’t be because… Shut it!” the man snapped, slapping his own head. “I’m trying to be dramatic here!”

Belle wanted to roll her eyes as she realized who was standing on that stage, but a giddy feeling took over instead. She hadn’t seen him during the last few days and barely exchanged a few messages with him, knowing he was either coming in by the window or the fire escape instead of using the door. Cindy swore out loud and it was enough to have the confirmation both Belles needed.

Giancarlo’s potential investor was DP, Belle’s latest boyfriend and infamous trouble maker, no matter which universe was concerned.

“What are those… Is it my birthday?!” he exclaimed excitedly, detailing both of their outfits, a big smile splitting his face in two beneath the mask he was wearing under the hood.

“You can’t be serious…” Cindy sighed.

“Where’s my improVyv friend?”

“Wade…”

“Wait, wait, I can practice my monologue for you two until he gets here! Just let me find my text again!”

The red and black assassin dove into the pile of costumes, disappearing inside the various pieces of fabrics for a full minute before coming up victorious and raising a bundle of sheets above his head.

Cindy would have smiled if the title she could make out on the script wasn’t : _The view to a kill, 3 acts of murder and why I did it._

This was going to be interesting.

To be continued...


	3. Two suspects plus one cactuar equals … a date by the moonlight?!

 

“Wade, as intriguing as this script sounds, we’re not here to play your audience. And Giancarlo isn’t coming to this meeting,” Belle declared with resolution.

Deadpool was clearly ready to get carried away with some inspired monologue, and as refreshing as Belle found them, she was worried of how this whole situation looked.

“I’ve gathered as much, petal. Why does your bosom buddy look at me as though I’m in trouble? I know the reputation of this establishment, but I only ever used this room as a mean for rehearsal. DP doesn’t need money to gather the ladies’ attention.”

“Careful, Wade,” Cindy shot back, clicking her heels and crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re looking for more kinds of trouble than you think with that line of thinking.”

Wade Wilson—killer for hire, renowned as THE merc with a mouth, and often called by his alias: “Deadpool”—looked at Cindy with wide, masked eyes.

“I’ve been a good boy, beautiful,” he solemnly promised to Belle. “I was trying to turn some hard-earned cash into a new line of sketchy theatrics with the help of Vyv Giancarlo. He wanted a new line of magazines and only lacked a drawing artist to bring our dream to fruition.”

Belle offered him a warm smile, knowing that dream might very well be replaced with a new one in a matter of days. Deadpool’s mind ran pretty fast, sometimes faster than he did. It made him nearly unpredictable. Although she should have feared him, the detective only found his eccentricities endearing. Cindy would remind her how their first encounter had ended up with him arrested for carrying an illegal number of weapons. But as sharp-minded as Belle was, she was ready to gloss over a lot of details for the man.

If there was one thing wrong with Belle French, it was how forgiving and trusting she was. With everyone.

 “DP, we’re here on LPD business,” Cindy stated, hoping that would bring Belle back to reality. “We were hoping to meet Giancarlo’s new investor, which sounds to be you. And I’m pretty sure you know why the police would be interested in this.”

Deadpool straightened his shoulders, bringing one hand to his face, index finger scratching slowly at his nose as he pondered her last statement. He didn’t miss the sadder look on Belle’s face and lowered both arms, shoulders hunching slightly.

“Vyv’s dead, isn’t he?”

Their eyes confirmed his suspicion and Wade grumbled something under his breath sounding strangely like: “I’m never getting away from these Marvel guys…”

Cindy was still wondering if it was the crime syndicate he’d been running from when he first arrived in Lestallum. Turning a blind eye on his activities to keep Belle happy was the biggest sacrifice she’d ever done for her partner. She suspected she might have to stop if Wilson turned out any more suspicious regarding the current case.

“Let’s grab a seat,” Belle suggested. “We have a few questions to ask you. I need to know where you’ve been earlier today between 8 and 10.”

“So now you want me to work with you? Awesome!”

He could switch between moods so quickly!

“Sorry to burst yar bubble, DP, but this partnership is still off-limits,” Cindy started, gesturing to her and Belle.

“Come on, I can dress in heels and tight leather too. You just don’t want to see my skin through the clothes,” he reminded her, flashing her a smile as he removed his hood and mask casually.

The heavily scarred skin beneath was still a mish-mash of red and white tumor-like bumps. Belle had a big heart. No one was able to deny so.

“What Cin means here is that we’re interrogating you as a witness, Wade. So don’t work against us. I’d rather not have you involved in this investigation. You know Jaz merely tolerates you around the city.”

Wade pulled a face, eying Cindy with a small bit of suspicion before turning his blue eyes to Belle.

“Off the record, I’d still take a greeting kiss before we get down to business.”

As unprofessional as it sounded, Belle didn’t see any harm in a brief smooch. Cindy looked the other way, mentally reciting a list of her favorite auto parts from serial numbers to factory listing in an effort to tune out the view, sounds, and pretty much all of it. They’d clearly been missing each other, since she had to clear her throat to break them apart.

“Oh, ya wan’ some Wilson too, pardner?” Wade teased, mocking her accent well enough to make her cringe.

“Sit yar ass down and watch that tongue before I clip it to yar ugly forehead.”

“Cindy!” Belle exclaimed.

“We have this room for only half n’ hour more before some’ore weirdos barge in, so, sorry, but A ain’t sorry, _pardner_.”

“Someone is getting riled up.” Deadpool couldn’t help himself.

Oil and fire made such beautiful sparks. The merc obediently sat down, crossing his legs and showing his empty hands as a peace sign, the smile wide on his face. Cindy wondered for a second if she could even sit down in a dignified way with the clothes she was wearing, but didn’t dare show any hesitation. Belle followed her example, notepad out and pen ready.

“Where were you between 8 and 10 this morning?” Belle asked her boyfriend.

“Testing the pipes they installed for the festival. I think I ended up in a trash can when one broke under my weight. Not that any of this is fat,” he pointed out, staring down at Cindy as though she’d personally insulted him. She ignored him superbly, so he went on, turning his attention back to Belle. “City hall likes having an invincible guinea pig. My contract is somewhere back at your apartment. I think it’s in the scrabble box.”

“Why would ya… no, that’s okay, new question,” Cindy quickly decided. With a few beers down, she might have liked to hear some crazy explanation, but now, she just wanted to get away from the man. She was getting a headache and blamed her bee-themed top hat. “How long have you been in contact with Vyv?”

“For a month or so. We met in front of some burger joint. Kenny’s diner I think. You know how I can’t stand that crow mascot,” he noted.

Belle nodded, perfectly remembering their first encounter. Deadpool had gotten into a fight with some Kenny Crow’s mascot doing a promotion and might have killed the man in the black bird suit if Cindy and Belle hadn’t interfered. The Belles had the fight of their lives and while Belle managed to get the mascot to safety, Cindy had literally run over Deadpool with their patrol car and crashed him into a wall. There was clearly no other way to stop a guy who could handle a bullet to the head like a slap to the face.

“What about these comics? How long has that project been in the works?” Cindy asked, forcing herself to forego her natural accent.

“Giancarlo suggested it during our first talk. He was quite excited by the project. He knew this project would propel his career forward,” Wade concluded.

“But you were investing money in this?” Belle insisted.

“Not at all. My contribution was intellectual property,” Wade explained. Cindy snickered and he feigned injury, before continuing. “I wrote down over a hundred strips with basic drawings and clear instructions. Vyv was backing me up entirely in this. The guy had endless funds.”

“Where were these funds coming from?” Cindy interrogated him.

Deadpool shrugged and slipped his mask back on.

“He was secretive about his sources and I don’t blame him. I’ve seen enough shady business in my life to know when I have one in front of me. Those Kenny’s diners for example…”

“Enough with the fast food,” Cindy cut him off. “What was shady about Giancarlo’s business?”

“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe the fact he had only three to four copies of every issue in circulation. One issue a month for 7 years, and it never grew any bigger than some extra VIP homemade magazine. And when everything starts coming his way, the guy gets killed out of nowhere? My verdict here, pretty ladies, is the first class of shady!”

He clapped in his hands theatrically, only for the Belles to blink in unison, not quite impressed.

“Could you give us any of his connections?” Belle asked.

“He was a private guy. Believe it or not, I respect that. Secrets make people interesting.”

“In our line of work, secrets are dangerous,” Cindy retorted. “But if you don’t know, you don’t know. How often did you two meet? Did you have any way of contacting him?”

“I don’t contact people,” Wade corrected her. “I find them and barge in on them.”

“He will knock if you ask him nicely,” Belled added as she saw the look Cindy was giving him.

“Is this really a police interrogation and not some boyfriend review I’m undergoing?”

“Ya should be thankful it’s a bit of both,” Cindy interjected. “Did Giancarlo ever mention any enemies?”

“Not really. I know he didn’t like Kenny’s diner either, but he made it clear it’s because of what the food did to him. You can’t exactly blame the guy when you look at all that blubbery…”

“We get the picture, thank you very much, Wade,” Belle cut him off.

“Come on now, the guy was fat. What’s wrong with that?” he objected.

“We just saw him nearly naked in the morgue.”

“Ugh, now I can picture it, too. Did he really have a barcode tattooed to his left bu…”

Belle jumped as this reminded her of another tattoo she’d seen earlier today.

“Oh my gods, with everything happening, I’ve never made a search for that glaive tattoo I saw on that guy’s wrist!”

“The one who threw ya off the building?!” Cindy deduced.

“Who did _what_ now?!”

All the friendly demeanor in Deadpool vanished and Cindy bit her lips as Belle raised her hands as to show she was fine. She wanted to stop him from drawing any of his weapons.

“We were chasing some thieves,” she explained calmly. “You know things can get bumpy in my line of work too, Wade.”

“Yeah, well. You don’t have my healing factor, Bellie…”

Cindy had to admit the guy could be sweet in his own way. Then they seemed closed to kissing again and she was grateful for Talula knocking at the door telling them their time had expired. Until DP suggested trying out a room with his gal.

“Be reasonable and meet me at the apartment instead, Wade.”

“Okay, babe. I’ll prepare you a relaxing surprise if I get there first,” he said more to himself than anyone in particular.

Talula wasn’t sure what was going on but escorted the ladies to the changing room without question. Cindy had kept the script, intent on reading it to get a better idea of what Wade Wilson’s creativity could mean. She drove her partner home, a little surprised to hear Prompto answering their call to the precinct to check for that tattoo. It was past 9 already and he got off at regular hours even when prisoners were staying the night. Apparently, Jasmine was keeping him late to personally ask him what he knew about both victims.

“Could you send me a drawing?” Prompto asked, typing away so roughly on his keyboard, they could hear it on their end of the line.

“You know, I could always ask this tomorrow. I was thinking of leaving you a message only to make sure we’d remember it,” Belle offered.

“Well, I’m stuck here for a while. Might as well have something else to do than watch over Drautos and ‘the prince of all assassins’.”

“Is that kid really that bad?” Cindy asked.

“He’s been talking nonstop about how he’s missing the festival. He doesn’t seem to understand that I’m missing it too!”

Belle stifled a laugh and Cindy bit her lower lip at the genuine misery in Prompto’s voice.

“Say, desk boy, how about I take ya out tomorrow night? If ya got a date, Jaz can’t have you pulling extra hours.”

“I… Ye.. yeah, that’d be nice.”

Belle elbowed Cindy for taking the poor secretary by total surprise, but Noctis’s voice was coming over the phone and Prompto heaved a sigh.

“They’re yelling at each other again. I can’t wait for the night shift to get here. Have a goodnight, ladies.”

“You too, Prompto,” Belle replied before hanging up.

When they reached Belle’s place, the partners exchanged their usual variety of “stay safe” and of other cautionary words. After a brief bump of the fist, Cindy rolled away to her own, less chic suburb of Lestallum.

 

Like always, the hallway of Cindy’s place was dark and there was no light visible from outside, even though the curtains were still wide open. Struggling with the six locks the day-nurse was kind enough to lock on her way out, the detective finally stepped in, feeling a short-lived sense of victory for keeping every key intact.

“Paw-paw? I know you’re still up, geezer.”

A trembling voice shushed for silence and she noticed a pair of eyes in the entrance hall. Her grandfather was hunched on the floor, holding a wrench that had seen better days. The air was cold inside from an open window in the kitchen that let in bugs and the fumes of the city.

“What are you doing sitting down there?”

“Late…” he retorted in a raspy breath.

The nurse usually left around 7, leaving her patient tucked in his bed. But he would inevitably wake up and wander around until he felt safe again. Little to say, Paw-paw hadn’t felt safe in a long, long time. It was worse whenever Cindy came back late. She locked the door in a matter of seconds and helped the old man to his feet, leading him to his favorite couch.

“You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“Where’ve ya been?” he muttered back.

His beard was evenly trimmed, but she could still make out the holes in it. The aging spots were dark on his pale and wrinkled skin. He cracked and winced whenever he moved, a concert of complains and grunts, but still wore his worn-out cap from the days of his garage. Cindy had the feeling the morning he wouldn’t put it on his head, that’d be the day her grandfather would entirely leave her.

“Working late.”

He groaned, eying her uniform with a mix of disgust and confusion.

“Ya work ta much,” came his verdict.

She shook her head and put a blanket around his shoulders before to kick off her boots and hat to ruffle her hair.

“Paw-paw, I’m going to take a shower. Do ya need anything?”

“This ol’ man ain’t need nuthin’,” he shot back.

 She turned on the TV for him and put on the old car’s review cassette. His eyes lit up and she was certain he’d stay put for at least the next hour. Her shower didn’t quite last that long, she hated leaving him alone to watch the same recorded re-runs over and over again. She joined him on the couch and switched the program to a racing drama show they had watched together when she was a teenage girl to laugh at all the inconsistencies.

“That Snow fella drives me nuts,” Cid roared as the credits started.

“Good one, paw-paw.”

“Wasn’t…”

He was cut off by a violent shake and for an instant, Cindy worried he was spasming. His muscles were slowly rebelling themselves and the doctors had warned it was only a matter of time until he couldn’t stay at home anymore. Months at best. She’d always heard how he’d rather die than live in some hospital under constant care. For every lucid moment where his swearing was aimed at real things and not the fact he was forgetting something, Cindy was ready to say it was still worth putting up with him and the constant guilt she felt for wishing to think otherwise every now and then.

“Easy, Paw-paw.”

The shaking stopped and his eyes looked for her, nearly foreign in their confusion. A spark of recognition flashed as she saw her pulling out her phone.

“I ain’t need no ambulance, kiddo.”

“Ya nearly convulsed.”

Arguing with him didn’t serve a purpose half the time, but she couldn’t help herself. Acting as though he was any less of a person would only eat him alive. He’d lost his wife too soon, then he’d lost his daughter and was forced to raise Cindy in his golden years. The garage running out of clients and ending up abandoned was the last straw for his mind. But he still argued back quite well.

“Muscles can’t remember how ta hold these stupid limbs. Ya should preserve me brain before it’s too late,” he suggested with a rough laugh.

She noticed tears at the corner of his eyes and felt her heart clench. When she moved to dry one tear, he stopped her, gripping her hand with unsuspected strength. And the trembling got to her.

“My eyes forgot, Clara,” he told her, his pride talking as he tried to keep some sort of control on his life.

All Cindy could think was that his eyes might just be remembering too well. He kept on seeing ghosts, and like a ghost she looked after him and kept working to pay all the expenses. Her soul was slowly burning out. She missed him a little more each day.

Cindy turned off the TV, bending one leg to hold it against her chest. She switch to a comfortable pajama, the last he’d bought her with his own money a lifetime ago. The fabric was stretched and she toyed with the hole on her thigh, pulling at a loose thread.

“Say, paw-paw… Tomorrow night, I’ll be late too,” she whispered.

His hand was still around her wrist and his bony fingers gave a light squeeze. She wasn’t sure if her voice had made him jump or not. He sounded quite himself as he asked, “More work?”

Shaking her head, she wondered why her cheeks heated.

“I’m seeing someone.”

He blinked, eyes focusing on her, a smirk lighting up his falling features. His lips moved but the sounds refused to follow and he had to cough and clear his throat to get it out.

“Blushin’’s a good sign. Good fella?”

“The best I know,” she confessed.

“Lies, girly. That’d be yar old man,” he laughed.

His hand let go of her wrist, his arm trying to extend and unbend but refusing to cooperate. She gave him a swift hug, thankful for that short flash of him. She could tell how thin he’d gotten and fought against a pang of guilt. He refused to eat more often than not. But he never refused to listen to her.

“That’s nice hair, Clara. Real, real nice. Smells like lemon.”

And off he went. Like always.

“Thanks, paw-paw.”

…

The precinct was quiet when the girls arrived in the morning. Jasmine was already on the phone, talking with the city press. Both murders had been covered by the media and she was trying to keep the journalists off her detectives. Prompto had left a note to Belle about the tattooed glaive she’d mentioned. The IPD had staged a sting operation against a former gang called the “Glaives”. The IPD suffered tremendous casualties and the city’s crippled security resulted in a clash of crime syndicates vying for control in the city’s underbelly. The Glaives had disbanded and its members pursued other jobs, like mercenary work. They were mostly veterans from the Galhad wars, and knew little else than a life fraught with fighting and killing.

“Awesome,” Belle declared darkly.

Cindy found a note on her desk, which was less work-oriented.

 _My suggestion for tonight… cosplay date?_ _\- Prom_

Her imagination was already running wild with the potential outfits she could try out, if only to see the look on his face. He had yet to comment on her maid picture. He looked paler than ever when he finally walked in, holding a cup of coffee for dear life.

“Did you get any sleep?” Belle asked him.

“I don’t really know. I was a zombie when I went back home. Might as well have slept here,” Prompto answered truthfully.

“Make sure ya get paid for the over-time,” Cindy told him.

Their banter was cut short by a call from the morgue. Ignis had his assistant pulling an all-nighter as she worked on her first autopsy. Both detectives wondered how hard it must have been to run an autopsy on a teenage boy as they hurried down to the morgue to receive Iris’s report in person.

…

“Cause of death was due to spinal damage and the subsequent…”

Iris was quite pale, but talked with clinical precision. For all her clumsiness, her suture points were perfect and Ignis hadn’t filed an order for new equipment yet.

“Ya don’t have to stick to the scientific terms…” Cindy cut her off.

The young girl gasped and nearly dropped her clipboard. Ignis cleared his throat.

“You did a more than decent job, Iris. The test is over and conclusive, so just talk with the detectives like you would normally do,” the coroner declared.

After a brief look back to her boss, the assistant’s shoulders relaxed and she resumed her explanations after going over her notes quickly.

“The neck was broken with brute force, but most of the bruising and fractures were inflicted before the time of death. It’s hard to figure when the … victim was killed precisely,” Iris explained. “I’d say less than five hours when it was found, but it’s quite certain he was moved and tempered with. Marks made over his body leads to the hypothesis of attempted rape, but there’s no trace of a completed…”

She paused and closed her eyes for an instant, looking more uncomfortable. While Belle gave a grim glance at Ignis, Cindy kept her eyes on Iris, knowing the girl would have to face a lot more cases of that kind if she was really intent on pursuing this job.

“I don’t think this was the real intention of his assailant,” Iris declared. “The older wounds were inflicted with a single goal: to cause pain while keeping him fully conscious.”

“Torture. The boy knew something and they wanted to know at any cost,” Belle deduced. Both cases were linked, there was little doubt now.

“Anything else?” Cindy inquired.

Iris nodded, shuffling to the counter and collecting one plastic bag that she raised to eye level.

“The victim clearly tried to defend himself. I found mud mixed with hairs stuck beneath his nails. After analysis, the hairs turned out to be synthetic, but made out of a high quality polyfilament.”

“Poly-what?” Belle repeated.

“Threads,” Ignis supplied. “I happen to have a collection of rare materials thanks to my predecessor. Including synthetic hairs developed by Exoneris in the creation of their company’s mascot.”

Caith Sith, the famous robot cat selling collector figurines to children or their parents by the HQ of the company. There were four models in the world, two in Lestallum, one back over in Insomnia for the branch’s HQ, and a special combat model that served in various rescue missions in Accordo and the further lands of Tenebrae. Reeve Tuesti, owner of Exoneris and main developer of the fluffy robots, was an elusive man known mostly for his large contributions to charity causes.

“Wait, you’re not saying…” Belle started.

“It’s a perfect match,” Iris confirmed. “The hairs in that mud belong to one of those Cait Sith robots. It barely makes any sense, but…”

“Ya’re telling us a robot killed that errand boy?!” Cindy exclaimed.

Shock didn’t begin to describe it. What could be the link between Exoneris and Lucional Geographic?!

“Well, we already knew Talcott had one of those cactuar figurines,” Belle pointed out. “This is a lead, no matter how farfetched it looks. Anything else?”

Iris shook her head and the Belles took their leave after congratulating her on her good work. It wasn’t clear what had shaken them the most: the idea that the benefactor of Lestallum—whose grandmother and mother had successively created and developed the factory which kept the very city alive—could be a child murderer via his feline robots; or the fact Ignis had had Iris autopsying already.

They quickly tried to make sense of this new lead on the way to Exoneris HQ.

“Can we even interrogate a robot?” Cindy wondered out loud.

“One thing is for sure: we’re not stopping at the robot. We need to talk with Reeve Tuesti,” Belle decided.

“Of course. But why in the hell would that guy even want to know anything that kid knew? Wait a minute! We could be looking at this all wrong. What if our boy stole the cactuar figurine?”

Belle opened her mouth to answer but couldn’t until Cindy finished her sudden curve maneuver to avoid a cosplayer dropping from a building to land right in the middle of the street.

“The hell ya think ya’re doing!!!” Cindy bellowed as she came to a violent halt.

Her partner gasped as she looked for the cosplayer, who’d moved out of the way so quickly it nearly looked as though he’d teleported. But that was still impossible in her books.

“Just watch where you’re go… Oh shit!” Noctis’s eyes widened as he realized who he was talking to. He turned on his heels, pushing aside a few bystanders in his wake.

The young man had been bailed out by his father last night, and both detectives were starting to wonder if this was going to become a recurring thing.

“Don’t these kids have school or something?” Cindy asked herself, starting her car again.

Their murder case was more important than teaching some sense into that over-excited cosplayer.

“Every school is closed during the festival,” Belle reminded her. “And I don’t like to see that teen in such a hurry. We never got the end word about that scuffle.”

“He’s just playing around and punched at more than he could handle. It’s that Drautos guy that looked suspicious to me,” Cindy observed.

“Everyone is suspicious during this festival. You wouldn’t believe half the bad puns Wade cited last night.”

Their discussion was cut short as they finally came into view of the Exoneris corporate building. It was the oldest construction in Lestallum, with neon letters, as tall as Cindy in her favorite heels, dominating the entire city. The X was larger than the other letters, surely as a reference to the original founder. Cindy could never recall the lady’s name and focused on the small stand a few feet from the main entrance, manned by the famous black and white mascot cat.

Car doors left unlocked, the detectives walked up to the stand and Caith Sith instantly bowed at their approach.

“Customers, customers! Welcome to our brand new line of…”

“We’re not here to shop for toys, fluffy,” Cindy cut him off.

Belle pulled out a plastic bag with the broken cactuar figurine they’d found on Talcott the previous day and showed it to the mascot.

“We’re here on official LPD business,” she stated. “Do you recognize this thing?”

“What have you done to the poor Mr. Cactuar!” Caith Sith meowed with a look of distraught in his eyes, paws waving in the air. “It’s the original Thousand Needles model, with One Thousand Needles painstakingly hand-drawn on it. They’re so small, we needed a magnifying lens of over…”

“Listen here, Caith Sith,” Belle interrupted him. “This figurine was on a crime scene and the boy possessing it is dead.”

The robot blinked before quivering and bringing his front paws up to his chest, as though he wanted to hold himself in comfort.

“Are you saying Mr. Cactuar killed someone?!” he asked.

Cindy hung her head. Asking questions to a machine, no matter how incredibly well programmed, wouldn’t get them anywhere.

“I’d like to confirm a few facts with you,” Belle went on. “Do you keep a registry of your sales for this figurine.”

“That we do, lady,” Caith Sith declared solemnly. “But I’d like to ask who broke Mr. Cactuar. It’s a crime you should also...”

“Do ya have a priority matrix or something? Cause it’s turned off and we need it if we’re going to make any progress,” Cindy groaned.

“I’m not...” His eyes suddenly froze and something shivered inside the machine. A new protocol had been set in motion and a few joints were realigning themselves. A few thunks preceded his voice, shrill but sharp. “Excuse me for that absence. This figurine was really rare. I don’t think we sold more than one of them.”

Belle rolled with it, glad to hear a more reasonable discourse. She took out a picture of Talcott’s face and showed it to Caith Sith.

“Do you recognize this boy? Was he the one that bought the figurine?”

“I don’t have access to that data,” Caith Sith answered, shoulders lowering.

Cindy wanted nothing more than to sit down and take him apart piece by piece just to see how he was working, but she pushed the ludicrous idea away. That was bound to get her arrested for abusing her position.

“Why?” Belle insisted.

“This boy isn’t in my memory bank,” the cat retorted. “I don’t have access to the data you need.”

“But was this figurine stolen?” Belle asked, trying to take a different angle.

Caith Sith craned his head to the side, clearly scanning through his mental data.

“Not according to my records. It was paid for in cash three weeks ago. I don’t have more information.”

“That’s for us to decide,” Cindy warned him, putting one hand on the stand’s counter.

The figurines on display jingled and the cat gave her a dark look.

“You already broke one of them,” he accused them. “Can’t you leave these cactuars alone?”

“We need to speak to your developer,” Belle indicated. “Whoever calls the shot around here.”

“CEO Tuesti don’t take appointments,” Caith Sith instantly replied.

“Thing is, we’re not asking or requesting!” Cindy stated. “If he doesn’t…”

At the sound of murmurs behind them, Belle glanced over her shoulder and noticed a line-up of bewildered kids and parents. Exoneris’ collection of cactuars was a big trend.

“We don’t have to make a scene here, Caith Sith,” Belle cautioned. “But we must see someone who might explain to us why your synthetic fur ended up at the crime scene. You must know that your fur is made of first grade materials that aren’t used in wigs or anything other than your line of cat-bots.”

She’d whispered the words, but Caith Sith’s eyes widened. After shaking his head as though to clear his ideas, he disappeared beneath the counter to rummage through some drawers.

“It’s a special occasion, a really select event, but I must have just the… Ha ha!” he exclaimed theatrically. “Here you are, ladies: three VIP tickets to the Moonlaugh charity night! Our CEO will be the guest of honor. Donors are gathering to rate and bid on the nicest clown outfits. Your tickets will grant you entrance to the clown costumes contest and, if your bid is in the top five, you get a fifteen-minute talk with Reeve Tuesti himself.”

Belle stared in shock while Cindy gaped with her hands clasped at her hips as she tried to understand who in his right mind would organize such a charity event. Clowns?!

“There’s no way we’re entering that contest!” Cindy bellowed.

“It’s the quickest way I can give you to meet my boss,” Caith Sith declared. “He’s always moving around and hasn’t been in Lestallum for the last three weeks. Plus he will leave right after the Moonlaugh charity night. It’s tonight at 9. Don’t forget your red nose!”

Belle nearly protested that there were only two of them, but Cindy grabbed the tickets, intent on making a few calls to verify the cat’s claims. It took half an hour to reach Tuesti’s secretary, who happened to be a flustered young man. The secretary confirmed that his boss had been travelling nonstop and wouldn’t be in Lestallum for long after the charity event.

“Do we even need to meet him to know which Caith Sith met Talcott? It makes no sense to think one of his robots would kill the boy,” Cindy sighed.

They were standing in the waiting room of Exoneris’ building. Cindy was already on her way to the door when Belle spotted a magazine title on the single table in the lobby.

“Could this be…”

Two steps later, she swore under her breath, raising the first physical copy of the Lucional Geographic they’d seen since the discovery of Giancarlo’s body.

It was dated six months old, and under the main title, a short-story spoof gave her all the reason she needed to drag Cindy to the Moonlaugh night.

_“Warrior cat”_

_Exoneris’s killing machines: A complete expose of the Siths’ deadly march_

_by Bernard R. Muelac._

Belle flipped the pages open to find a more professional piece than she’d expected. It helped shed a very dark light on Exoneris’s rescue efforts, showing how the cuddly rescuer had been used in guerilla and gang battles to benefit its owners.

“Oh my…”

The front desk worker looked up with a puzzled expression and Cindy dragged her partner out, keeping the magazine as their newest clue.

“I thought this was more pictures than news,” Cindy admitted.

“We need to read through this thing and talk with Tuesti,” Belle stated.

...

Jasmine was hard to convince when her top detectives told her they needed a budget to borrow clown costumes for their investigation. The VIP tickets did little to impress her, but she offered to cover half of the expenses after they’d mentioned the look on Iris’s face earlier this morning. It was a sniffling, teary-eyed boss that agreed. The third ticket was offered to Prompto.

“You said you wanted a cosplay date. And the more chances we have to win the highest bids, the better we are,” Cindy justified the offer.

She wasn’t exactly comfortable around clowns, but she wasn’t going to admit so. Cindy was convinced she could find a way to turn her costume into something even she would like with a few adjustments. They still spent most of their time going over the clues they’d collected so far, calling Giancarlo’s girlfriend again and trying to locate the few reporters’ names in their number of the LG magazine.

“That was one of Giancarlo’s aliases,” Prompto remarked for the first name, as well as the ten that followed.

Bernard R. Muelac was the only one that didn’t ring a bell and the name did come up on many conspiracy forums. It was clearly an alias, too, but this guy or woman had been careful with covering his or her tracks. The black market didn’t turn up any leads about the stolen computers, and before either of the detectives knew it, they had to prepare for the _Moonlaugh_ night.

“That name is so…”

“Corny? Wrong? Weird?” Cindy offered her partner.

“Worse than all of that together,” Belle affirmed.

They were raiding the best cosplay store in town, which was twice as big as usual thanks to the festival. Belle wore a messy afro pigtails wig with a top hat tightly tied to the side of her head. Her top was tight, with a tasteful cleavage, her neck painted as white as her face. The skirt was puffy, making her look like a bell. She was as colorful as a box of crayons. Her red nose was small, nearly cute and she drew a fake-mask line in the middle of her face, spawning dark triangles around her eyes in a mosaic that ran up to her forehead. Her smile was wide and red, complementing the red and gold fabric of her costume. The finishing touch was the white spotted, floppy red shoes with a dark bow that clicked in a funny way when she walked.

“That won’t be discreet at all, huh?”

“I didn’t think discretion was the goal here…” Cindy remarked, turning on herself to check the results.

Cindy had styled her hair in blonde curls and enough gel to have it stand up on end. It looked as though she’d been stuck on top of a giant hair dryer for too long. The gradation made her roots darker and growing lighter and lighter, with hints of blue and pink that fitted with the checkered motif on her tight-fitting suit. She wore a tattered black skirt two inches too short for Belle’s standards,as well as pointy shoes. Their proportions were laughable, five times too big for her. A tiny round hat—with the water flower gag included—was strapped to the side of her neck. She’d shaded her eyes with dark jester-themed triangles. A too thin and scary-long smile stretched her face, lips and cheeks a dark blue. Her nose was painted on, pinker than red, and studded with piercings.

“Can you breathe in there?” Belle asked her.

“Just enough,” she joked, taking a step to the right and then one to the left.

The little red balls tied to each point of her skirt jumped around.

“It’s too much, isn’t it? I feel cramped just looking at all these colors,” Cindy whispered.

“Caith Sith won’t be able to say we didn’t go all out,” Belle countered. “Now, let’s go make sure we get a serious talk with Tuesti.”

One step out of the costume shop and heads instantly turned. They would meet up with Prompto by the venue and work on locating Reeve until the bidding would start. The drive was spent in silence, each clown keeping her thoughts to herself. Cindy had the suspicion they weren’t following the right lead here and had still a reasonable amount of doubts against Deadpool. Belle wanted to meet Reeve Tuesti face to face and understand why he’d created the Caith Sith and get an answer for the evidence collected under Talcott’s nails. The article in LG had her wondering if she’d judged Lestallum on the wrong criteria when she’d first arrived. She knew a lot about monsters hiding in plain sight, and if Tuesti was one of them, she’d expose him with pleasure.

The moon seemed too round and brighter than the city lights. A hundred Assassin cosplayers walked around. They were everywhere, in the streets, the cafes, the shops and even on the rooftops. For an instant, the Belles wondered if that wasn’t how the world truly worked—everyone a potential murderer, until the occasion rose and morals tipped over. It was going to be a long night for the detectives, but this investigation was only beginning.

To be continued…

 


	4. Sad clowns, happy crows; death wherever the wind blows

 

The venue for the Moonlaugh charity night had been constructed for the very event it was hosting. Everything was new—from the sparkling metal walls, to the digital screens showcasing animations of Caith Sith in various clown outfits.

"More laughs, more colors, more cares," went the slogan.

Even Belle cringed as she heard it for the tenth time. Locating Prompto had taken two calls and some bumping into passersby, which earned them dark looks from the security guards.

In his costume, Prompto was more monochromic than the girls: face white, a black tear under his left eye, black fabric clinging to his head, letting out only a few blond strands of hair. His neck was surrounded by a fan collar of black and white fabric, with three large pompoms completing the Pierrot look.

"Does that really count as a clown?" Cindy asked as she recognized his baby blue eyes.

"Right back at you, goth-girl."

"Excuse me?"

Belle was quick to remind them of the reason for their crazy get-ups and steered them toward the nearest entrance to the Moonlaugh charity event. Their VIP tickets earned them a nod of the head, although Cindy observed the way one security agent scuffed at her.

"What's so wrong with my costume? Is it the hair?" she asked Prompto.

The man harrumphed, attempting to appear preoccupied by the crowd that was nearly blocking their way inside. He wasn't ready to comment on what exactly could be wrong with her clown costume. If he started, he might never stop and could say goodbye to anything resembling a date when they would leave this carnival of smiling, laughing, barking and crying clowns.

Cindy inched a bit closer to their Pierrot, wishing she could put one hand on her gun if only to comfort herself. Crossing the curtain to the hastily-put-together venue was like stepping into a rainbow. Filled with masked or painted-on faces that visited the entire spectrum of emotions, while all managing one important thing: nobody in here looked even remotely human. Their smiles were too large, their shoes were too large, their laughter lasted too long. The inner child in Cindy was utterly terrified. On the other hand, Belle looked amazed by the sheer variety of colors and shapes.

A tall, man-sized Caith Sith was giving instructions to the new arrivals and gave them a quick briefing of what they could expect. He also handed out bags of VIP guest goodies either related to Exoneris or the night's main theme.

"Welcome, welcome, laughter workers! The contest will start in about 15 minutes! Your number will be in the bag, so grab a drink, careful with your makeup and find your place in the line of clownsies!"

The numbers were thankfully not random and they could all stand close by in the line of VIPs after checking the place out.

The stage occupied the center of the open-air space, with caterers and tables littered with food lining the walls. Spotlights kept changing in intensity, as though looking for a target worthy of their light. It made it hard to follow the guests buzzing about and commenting on the clowns, the decorations, or the very fact their host wasn't even there yet.

Reeve Tuesti wasn't anywhere in sight. Not even among the circles of celebrities and artists that participated in the bids on the five nicest costumes. Eccentrics had shown up for the occasion, including the ever-elusive Verstael Niffelheim, also known as the "Daemon Doc". Belle knew the man had discovered a cure for more illnesses than any others, while also creating a few plagues of his own in his younger days. That last fact had been more or less covered up when he crossed the border of Lucis to expand his research. He offered his services only to wealthy patrons and cured them of all ailments. End result: he was filthy rich. Which meant he could bask in it and was untouchable despite the means he used to treat "patients".

"Daemon doc?" people whispered in the VIP line. "It's the first time I'm seeing him in person!"

Cindy noticed Prompto tensing up at the very name and gave him a sidelong glance, holding herself back to not elbow him in the ribs. She didn't want to mess up his costume. He shrugged in answer.

"That alias just sounds creepy," Prompto tried to defend himself.

"The guy behind ya looks way creepier, Pierrot," Cindy shot back in a whisper.

"I heard that, goth clown," growled the fat clown with pointy teeth.

Cindy grunted and tugged on Belle's arm.

"Why is everyone acting as though I'm an awful clown? Is it the piercing?"

"Girl, at this point, ya have to own it," Belle answered, giving her a cheerful wink.

That got a smile out of her partner, and before more talking could take place, the man-sized Caith Sith called the first contestant onto the stage. There was a total of 150 clowns. Which meant each contestant had little time to make his case to the crowd. A few tripped on their feet, some on purpose, some out of cheer stage-fright. The crowd mostly laughed about the on-running comments the mascot was making for the whole time of the contest.

"We have frizzles and freckles here, but no red nose. Lookie, lookie, with such a round belly, someone doesn't have to worry about ever sinking."

Cindy was half entertained, half wondering if the whole thing hadn't been a sham. Tuesti still had to show up and as the guests took notes, gave grades, and the line slowly thinned out, she started to wonder if either one of them had a chance to be selected for a talk with the CEO of Exoneris. Three intermissions were made for the guests to collect more beverages, while one Exoneris employee or another performed some magic or circus trick in the meantime. Music alternated between comedy slideshows and some classics of the circus world.

"If we have to wait much longer…" the fat clown standing behind Prompto complained.

He'd been staring at Belle an awful lot since the first intermission.

"On to number 127!"

Belle nearly jumped and hurried on the stage, walking a bit awkwardly thanks to her floppy skirt.

"Look at her go, she's like a human, walking bell of colors and sparkles," Caith Sith purred.

Cindy was next and walked with confidence despite the few doubts creeping in thanks to the disapproving looks the other VIPs had given her for the last two hours. She was mentally telling herself that the VIP stood for "vile infinite pain." What man would have people stand still for over two freaking hours!

"Interesting take on the theme. One harlequin has gone dark, ladies and gentlemen! Unless she shocked herself on her way here, hence the crazy hair, ha ha!" the announcer laughed.

Prompto was the only Pierrot of the lot and progressed on the stage with firm but quiet steps, his collar swaying a bit as he walked.

"I love your choice of color, Pierrot. Put a smile on that face. Oh god, I think I'm in love!"

The good part of being in the last contestants was that the trio didn't have to wait much longer for the results. There was a fifteen minutes break so the clowns could drink or eat something. A digital screen rose from the stage's floor, Caith Sith bidding farewell to the guests with a small bow. The robot hadn't vanished out of sight for more than a few seconds when Reeve Tuesti walked onto the stage, suit, tie and beard all impeccable.

"Sorry for the delay everyone," he introduced himself, not seeming the least bit sorry. "I had been working on a little project of mine and thought it might be a funnier way to entertain you than being my boring old sel…" He hacked out a cough, catching something fluffy into his hand. "Oh lord, hairball. This project will need some adjustments," he added.

There were a few laughs while Cindy rolled her eyes, before noticing that Belle was nervously clutching her hands in front of her. If neither of them won, they would need to corner Reeve Tuesti, with him inside of his giant Caith Sith costume or not.

As the fifth and fourth places were given to some other contestants, with the donated sums of 100,000 and 150,000 gils, the trio felt hope dimming. They were talking about some heavy money.

"In third place, with a classic that gathered 500,000 gils, is our one and only Pierrot—Prompto Argentum!" Reeve called excitedly.

Belle gasped and Cindy almost screamed, but Prompto simply blinked, having to be called a second time to realize he had to get back on stage and bow. He just couldn't believe the amount of money Reeve had just said. Number 2 was the fat clown who'd been following them, much to Cindy's dismay. People donated 575,000 on that guy?! They were going to need persuasion to get more than five minutes out of Reeve.

"Now, before naming the highest bid of them all, I'd like to thank everyone for their contribution to this charity. Together, in a few hours, we've amassed over three million gil for the children of Lucis. And we have one lady in particular to thank for it, although I wouldn't want to dismiss the efforts of all the contestants we've had so far. With 864,373 gil, I'd like to call the bell of a clown who graced the floor of this stage earlier: Belle French!"

The crowd cheered and this time, Cindy let out a shriek. Belle stood frozen next to her until her friend and partner pushed on her back, nearly shoving her forward. Who in the hell threw out that kind of money for a mere costume? She flip-flopped up the stairs and hobbled onto the stage, feeling even more self-aware than when she'd first showed her costume to the very same crowd. An enlarged picture of her was shown on the digital screen and Reeve wrapped an arm around her shoulders as she got next to him, pushed in front of the four other winners.

"I hope this doesn't sound weird, but you're the prettiest mess of colors I've ever seen," the CEO told her. "I think you made me smile harder than anyone else today."

There was a warmth to his voice that didn't extend to his arm, or to the way he stood next to her. Belle had doubts about the man, but being this close to him—close enough to smell his cologne and aftershave, a combined experience that made her lungs seized for 30 good seconds—she could tell something was wrong. His eyes weren't looking for colors, but flaws. His smile looked plastered on. If it wasn't enough, his hand was too low down her back for comfort, but she forced a smile as the crowd cheered for their favorite clown. Her nose nearly came off when she gave a light bow to the public.

As Reeve suggested that everyone mingled and enjoyed the rest of the night, Cindy realized she would have to make a run for it if she wanted to participate in the talk with Reeve that both Prompto and Belle were allowed into. The security guys needed a little charm to get her backstage, but she managed to catch up with Reeve and his five clowns. There was the Caith Sith suit standing in a corner, which looked more like a high-tech piece of armor than anything else. Cindy knew she couldn't be subtle, so she simply walked up to the little group.

"If you want to know the amount of your bid, you can check the watch we gave out in your presents bag, goth-girl."

"Oh my gawd!" Cindy snapped. "I'm here on an investigation for the LPD, mister Tuesti, so just give me a minute of yar time, or I swear to the gods, I'll shoot the next person what calls me that for obstruction of justice."

"You're coming off a bit strong, there, partner," Belle warned her.

"What is the meaning of this?" Tuesti demanded.

"How about you guys go get some refreshments and come back in about 10," Prompto suggested to the three other winners.

A brief show of detective badges was enough to convince the fat, scary clown, the grapefruit clown, and the stilts clown to give them space. Reeve undid his tie and rolled his shoulders, as though he was trying to calm himself. Belle saw how his knuckles blanched and wondered why his angry eyes held much more humanity than his previous smile. It only lasted a few seconds. The man collected himself after shoving the tie into his pocket.

"I'm really sorry to take up your time in the middle of your charity event," Belle started.

"Darling, you don't need to apologize. You won fair and square 5 minutes of my time. I'd give you 5 more if my schedule wasn't so tight, honestly, but that lady over here…"

"Sir, I'm tired of playing nice. This costume is squeezing my…!" Cindy defended herself.

Prompto's eyes widened while Belle quickly interrupted her partner.

"We need access to one of your Caith Sith's database."

"Why would I…" Reeve tried to protest.

"There is a murder investigation going on," Prompto chimed in.

"Pierrot too, huh? Except you don't have a badge, so what are you?" Reeve questioned him.

"A secretary…" the young man admitted, his shoulders lowering.

"Point is, we need to know who bought a particular Cactuar figurine. The One Thousand needles model," Cindy declared.

"A connoisseur…"

"A dead one," Belle insisted. "We need to know if anything weird happened during this transaction. Or if one of your Caith Sith robots…"

She hesitated on how to phrase it and Reeve raised an eyebrow at her.

"Could it have attacked anyone? If the figurine was stolen, or…"

Reeve burst out in a laugh that made the three clowns jump.

"That's preposterous! Did you read some blog about the killer cat robots? I get that all the time from the press. The Caith Siths in Lestallum are fluffy vending machines; nothing more."

"How many Caith Siths do you have in Lestallum?" Belle pushed.

Reeve blinked.

"That's… that type of information is reserved to Exoneris's employees. Industrial espionage and…" he said. Cindy's glare made him grimace, but it was Belle's clownish glower that had him crack. "We have two in the city. Except for that beauty I used to entertain the guests. I can give you a file from my first Caith Sith—the main vendor for the figurines. I had a private detective looking into what happened to it, but you might as well help."

"What happened to it?" Prompto asked.

"It was beaten up and wrecked by some maniac," Reeve said, his voice rising as he showed true emotions. "Those robots are cuddly and friendly."

"Wouldn't they defend themselves?" Cindy questioned, wondering if Talcott would have attacked a Caith Sith. That didn't sound right at all.

The CEO checked his watch, as though to make sure they weren't over their limited time. "I make robots for a living; I have security protocols," he continued. "The civilian-zone machines are all programmed to protect humans. They wouldn't defend themselves if attacked. They'd run if possible, but no retaliation whatsoever. They don't even have claws!" he concluded, sounding outraged by the fact his robot cats lacked claws.

"Well, we still want the file. I'd also liked to ask you where the attack took place and…"

A scream cut Belle off mid-sentence. A violent crash followed by gunshots put the three clowns on high alert while Reeve reacted with cool detachment.

"What now?" he sighed.

"Get out of your hiding place, Tuesti, you sick bastard!" a woman called out.

"Not her again," he breathed through clenched teeth, before motioning towards his Caith suit.

"Don't just walk out there!" Belle called him back.

"No need to worry about me, bell clown," Reeve told her, taking her hand, his palm cold against hers. "If you stay put, there shouldn't be anything going wrong for you guys."

Cindy motioned to stop him despite the fact her shoes made it nearly impossible for her to catch up on him. It was then that footsteps closed in and a burly woman with a red helmet and a thick armor stepped in carrying a gun.

Reeve hurriedly hid inside his suit. It offered him the protection he needed, but made him cuddly-uddly.

"Sania Wilson—for the tenth time—they were  _only_  frogs!" Reeve declared, his voice unmodified this time around.

Cindy racked her brain for information on the newcomer, but she had nothing on her. Belle was just as lost and closed her clowny fist around the key the CEO had left her, her brain barely registering the object's presence.

"It was an  _ecosystem_! And you crushed it with the heel of your feet like you do everything else, Tuesti! I've tried exposing you with normal means, but I've stepped up my game."

"Come down to my level, you mean? How the mighty have fallen," he mocked her. "Let's play a game of cat and mouse."

Without further ado, he dropped down on all four paws and lunged forward, propelled by repulsors in his suit. Cindy pulled Prompto to the side to evade Sania's bullets as they ripped through the air.

"Wait… She's using blank shots?!" Prompto realized, seeing the rounds hitting the floor a few feet from them.

"Really?" Cindy blurted out.

Belle took out her gun and rushed after Reeve with her goofy wig flapping around her neck. The two armored humans pushed each other around, sending material flying as they crashed into everything. Cindy kicked off her shoes and carefully stepped on the stage to get a better idea of how the guests were handling the sudden commotion. The security guards were all knocked out and the clowns and bidders were running to the exits in a human stampede.

"We're going to get more wounded just from their panic," Cindy groaned.

Just as she was throwing a glance over her shoulder, the Caith suit flew across the entire venue by a violent kick from Sania. Surely that armor she wore was reinforced like the one Reeve was wearing.

"I equipped myself to face you this time around, Tuesti!" Sania declared as he hit the west wall, the metal actually bending under the shock.

"Stop this madness right now!" Belle called out, her badge held in one hand, her gun in the other.

"I'm already an outlaw," Sania scoffed. "Look it up under S. Wilson, cop clown."

She flicked a switch on her gun and aimed it at Tuesti, the barrel charging up with energy that flickered into a blast of light. The Caith suit was hit square in the chest.

"This charity wasn't supposed to turn out into full-on mayhem," Reeve griped, raising one paw and discharging a blast of his own on the armored ecologist.

Sania was pushed back a few steps, her forearms flashing blue as her suit absorbed the input of power. Cindy was glad the civilians had cleared the nearby perimeter, but couldn't help but wonder where the damage would stop.

"Did you steal and modify one of my tactical suits, you wench!?" the CEO snapped, realization dawning on him.

"I thought it was simply fitting to fight fire with fire. I just scraped off the synthetic fur. Too flammable for my tastes. Although I must say, no gas emission? That's something you should share with the entire world, not the highest bidder, you money-obsessed…"

"Goth-cop!" Reeve called out to Cindy. "This woman has threatened my guests and stolen my company's property for a pesky, imaginary revenge. If you're going to arrest someone…"

"Like hell I will! Ya're using unregulated weaponry and shooting laser beams like some deranged iron cat dude! If anything, ya're both under arrest!"

The Cait suit's eyes turned to slits and its teeth flashed in a feline sneer.

"You don't want to do that. Trust me."

Prompto and Belle had both used that time to get closer to Sania, who seemed to ignore everyone but her target. She barged in and took out the security guards, then focused all her fire on Reeve. No one understood why she was after Reeve. The mention of frogs was too vague to clear things up. Reeve charged another blast, while Sania kicked on her own thrusters so she could take flight.

"I don't want you to get hurt," said Sania, "but if you're asking for it…"

Belle responded by jerking Sania's helmet backwards and swatting at her legs. Sania lost balance long enough for both clown-themed agents to tackle her to the floor.

"We need one of you to stop this madness before someone gets seriously hurt," Belle told the die-hard ecologist.

Sania struggled against them to no avail. She refused to use the armor's strength against some petty clowns.

"Huh, Belle…" Prompto tried to get her attention.

"Move out of the way, Belly," Reeve warned, the energy fully charged in his fluffy palm.

Cindy took aim, stepped on a shard of glass with her bare foot and missed the Caith Suit's arm by a mile. Sania only had the time to knock Prompto to the side as the lit palm of the Caith Suit released its charge. A large shadow fell over the beam's trajectory, signaling the arrival of a newcomer. Belle only had time to blink before the smell of charred flesh filled the air. Cait Sith-Reeve looked at the newcomer, his over-sized head leaning to the side in inquiry.

"And who are you supposed to be now?"

The mysterious and half charred individual gurgled and spat blood in answer. It was a wonder how he was still even standing! Cindy used the confusion to her advantage, carefully hopping on her good foot in the CEO's direction. With a squeaky toot, the large hooded figure deflated in the shape of an average man. He threw his clown mask to the ground to reveal the bald and scarred head of… Wade Wilson! He spat out sharp, pointy teeth and Cindy realized he'd been the fat clown all along.

What in the name of Hajime Tabata was he doing here?!

"I was hired to give you a good fright, cat-man," the merc stated. "But it sounds like someone beat me to the punch."

"Wade, you picked the worst time..." Sania started.

"Don't worry, cousin, I took that shot to make sure my girl wouldn't be baked alive. Has nothing to do with you. But wait guys, this reminds me: anyone want a Deadpool rib? Think fast, because they're turning raw and lively in the next ten minutes!"

"Oh, please!" Cindy whispered to herself, fighting against a shiver and the throbbing pain in her foot.

Belle asked Prompto to call for reinforcements and tried to catch Wade's attention, only to spot Cindy reaching for the Caith Suit. Next to her, Sania's shoulders sagged.

"Guess I should let Wade take the fall for this one," said Sania. "Taking care of Tuesti isn't the only thing on my agenda." Her boots lit up as her thrusters kicked back on.

Belle tried to stop her."No wait; I need to ask you…!" The detective was forced to shelter her face with her arms, her battered wig turned ablaze by the propellers grazing her as Sania took to the air. Belle hastily threw the accessory off and stepped on the synthetic fabric to take out of the flames.

From up above, Sania waved an imperious finger at Exoneris's CEO. "Don't think it's the last you will hear from me, Tuesti!" she vowed solemnly.

The man had some witty retort burning at the back of his throat, but Cindy cut him short with her gun.

"You are going to step out of this suit, Mr. Tuesti, or I swear to the gods, I'll shoot down every joint of this thing and pry you out of it myself with a wrench and a hammer."

The moon bathed her pale face with an eerie glow, her vein-popping eyes and cold glare adding to the grotesque and threatening impression she gave off. The stud in her nose had fallen and her hair was wild, pointing in every direction. Her skin-tight suit traced tense muscles along her trembling gun arm. Reeve gestured to raise his paws in surrender, and Cindy pistol whipped him.

"Keep them pointed to the ground and take off the stupid suit," she ordered.

"I'd better come to no harm."

"Oh, I think there was enough harm done as it is," Belle observed, walking up to them with an unreadable, checkered expression on her face.

Sirens wailed in the night, all headed for the Moonlaugh charity night. Cries of pain from the guests and a few strangled sobs echoed over the venue. No one really felt like laughing anymore. Reeve stepped out of his suit, Deadpool daring to ask where Cindy had been keeping cuffs and a gun in her crazy get up. All he got was a glare from Belle and raised eyebrows from Reeve, to which Wade shrugged, feigning dejection.

"You're making a big mistake," Reeve warned as the metal links closed around his wrists.

"Maybe you'll think twice the next time you decide to create a weaponized toy, Mr. Tuesti," Belle sagely said while flip-flopping alongside him.

The digital key in her palm burned her skin. Deep in her heart, she was convinced they'd found the real culprit to this string of murders. All she needed now was proof, and she'd get them no matter what it would take.

…

Cindy couldn't drive her car with her wounded foot. She instead lent it to Belle and Deadpool to give them a chance to escape Jasmine's potential questions. The goth-clown stayed behind to wait for first-aid with the rest of the Moonlaugh charity guests.

Reeve had been driven to the precinct by a fellow officer. Cindy and Belle both knew there would be hell to pay for ditching the usual protocol, but they still weren't quite sure what had happened when Sania barged in on the Moonlaugh night.

Belle had managed to cram her puffy dress into the driver's seat. She was under strict orders to not allow Wade anywhere near the wheel. The two drove off into the night, with Deadpool unmasked and messing around with the radio as he looked for "worthy" music.

"I thought you only took honest jobs nowadays," she observed, jazz switching to rock ballads.

"Scaring off someone like Reeve Tuesti is honest work, sweetie," the mercenary pointed out. "You drew that pattern yourself, didn't you? It's pretty mind-boggling, you know?"

Belle frowned. "That I drew it?"

"Nah, looking at it I mean."

"Wade… I'm trying to understand what just happened. Who's that cousin? And what…?"

"Second cousin, thrice removed. Or maybe twice… I never really understood how that worked. Sania is a nice girl as long as her frogs stay alive."

"Frogs?"

"She researches them and has people collect them sometimes. Live specimens, mind you. She protects their environments too. Sometimes, it's about Garrulas, but frogs are her favorite," Deadpool explained seriously.

"And what's the deal with Tuesti?"

"Well, he took out acres of forests and rivers for his factories. Not to mention the cat craze. He needs a shrink and some pills. The robots are one thing, but a full, human-sized suit with that face? Even I'd get nightmares!"

Belle laughed despite her efforts to remain serious. It was hard around that man.

"Why would someone want you to scare him?" she asked, trying to steer the conversation back to her investigation.

"Don't you have a file on him at your department? The guy has more dirt on him than I have scars on my body."

"We are not counting them again, Wade!" Belle scoffed.

"Hey, that wasn't my aim here. The number always changes, anyway…" Wade reminded her.

"What did Reeve do to earn all that dirt?"

"For starters, tonight's charity event was the worst I've ever seen," he pointed out. "Not to mention you caught the eye of that freaky, cat-crazed psycho. Do you collect us weirdos or something?"

His comment was meant as a joke, but Belle winced inwardly. That actually reached far too close to home for her to manage a smile.

"You caught his eye, too, Wade," she retorted.

"Well, that's simply because I'm fabulous in any cosplay! You should see my Captain Ame.."

"In all seriousness, what dirt do you have on him?" Belle cut him off.

"Heh, you should leave the work for tomorrow," he replied. "I'll make you a list. First, I'd like to understand how that dress works," Wade admitted, experimentally tugging at one corner of her skirt.

"I'm driving!" she protested, her laugh sounding more genuine this time around. She wondered if she'd get to check the key's content tonight and told herself to simply wait after a few hours of rest… and comfort since it seemed to be Wade's main concern.

"Where did your red nose go?" he asked her as they walked up the stairs to her apartment.

"Must have lost it when I tackled your second cousin," Belle hummed.

She couldn't wait to get out of that goofball getup, scrub her face, and to hear back from Cindy and Prompto. They swore to be safe, but she couldn't help but wonder how much those two were hiding.

…

Cindy and Prompto had front row seats to the consequences of Sania's attack on Reeve Tuesti and the stampede of guests running to safety. There were a few broken limbs, some fractured ribs, gashes, cuts, sprained everything and anything, and enough bruises to make the sky dark in the early morning. Costume malfunctions had done a lot of damage. Critically injured casualties were driven to the nearest hospital. Cindy had to wait her turn for on-site treatment, until Prompto had enough and commandeered a first aid kit. He helped her back to the parking lot where he found a spot for his car and settled her in the passenger seat.

"Next time around, we're going out on a real date," Cindy told Prompto as he cleaned up her feet and checked the wound with the flashlight on his phone.

"You wouldn't happen to have tweezers on you?" he asked her instead.

"Why?"

"There's a shard still inside. Good thing you didn't put any more weight on it."

She paled under her make-up and shuddered, despite what moving did to her foot.

"I don't have much more than my gun and a spare pair of cuffs," she sighed. "It's not like I have a lot of breathing room here."

"Only you would go for skin-tight plastic suit when you get a clown theme for a costume party," he teased her.

Cindy might have blushed if she hadn't seen him pull out a tweezer from the kit. Her throat tightened slightly and it was difficult to focus on his blue eyes as Prompto looked at her, trying to reassure her.

"It's small, but it's going to bleed more until I'm done disinfecting it."

"Let's just get it over and go," she pleaded.

The only reason they were still near the scene was because traffic was slow and heavily regulated. Also, Cindy couldn't bear the idea to bleed in anyone's car. It was close to sacrilege. She yelped as the pain reawakened, coursing up her leg. No way she could drive tonight. She would have to stop by the hospital and check on Dr. Nox to get a quick fix so she'd be able to keep up with Belle in that investigation. She focused on Prompto's hands, which worked with purpose and a lot more dexterity than she would have given him credit for in such circumstances. While he appeared fidgety most of the time, he was cool and collected right now.

He'd been shot at and pushed around, and a nasty bruise was blooming on the left side of his jaw from when Sania had thrown him off. But despite the cold night air and sirens wailing a few feet away, he was focused on his task. He was much gentler than the nurses Cindy had had in her past investigations. She didn't need stitches according to him, but he still dressed up the wound with a butterfly closure before bandaging her foot. His white costume was covered with dirt from kneeling on the ground, but when she tried to apologize, he refused to hear any of it. That's what dry cleaning was for.

"Let's just get out of here," Prompto offered.

She nodded, thankful to finally close the car door and feel some warmth coming back in her fingers from the car heater.

"I guess I'm dropping you home?" Prompto asked, backing out of the parking lot.

"Actually, would ya mind if I crash at your place? The costume is one thing, but the foot is another one entirely and I already asked paw-paw's nurse to stay over for the night."

The smile on his face had a hint of smugness and she bit at her lower lip. "Is this still a date?" he teased. "Or am I your extended charity case?"

His lack of confidence made her throat tighten. She felt ready to crumble at any moment. How could she hold anyone back in that fragile state?

"Prompto, I wanted to go on a real date with ya for quite a while now. Not the Moonlaugh anomaly we survived together. And I was worried that charity would be disappointing. I don't mean to impose on ya, and I'm not showing interest in ya out of pity. Give us both some credit here."

"I guess I'm just not sure what you expect from me right now. Girls who come to my apartment on the first night usually vanish the next morning.  _We_  work together every day…"

"And that's the very reason why we've been beating around the bush for so long. But life's too short for that, don't ya think?"

They had two very clear examples in mind with the recent murders of Giancarlo and Talcott. Prompto agreed, despite feeling pretty nervous about letting her into his small, modest abode.

"Next time, just give me some warning," he pleaded with her. "Also, I'm on the fourth floor."

"Elevator?" she asked hopefully.

"Nope," came his answer.

"Piggyback ride up the stairs?" Cindy insisted.

"I…" One look to her and he was done for. She was making puppy eyes at him.

"Surely my back can take it. But you're so making it up to me," Prompto grumbled.

She smiled, wondering if he was blushing under his white make-up. It was weird to hold such a serious conversation when they were dressed up like clowns. The way up the stairs was a little more laborious than she'd expected, with a few bumps in the wall, always on the side of her good foot, thankfully. The neighbours complained about the noise before long.

"Paper-thin walls," Prompto commented as they reached the second floor.

Cindy insisted on being let off as they crossed the threshold to his apartment. Removing the makeup came first. Cindy sat on the bathroom's counter while Prompto stood next to her. They helped each other, feeling they were connecting a bit more with themselves as their faces regained normal color—albeit a bit redder than usual. Irritation or blushing, neither could really tell. Prompto lent her some of his sleeping clothes before changing out of his costume into something much more comfortable. Cindy rinsed her hair to remove some of the darker tone from it, wondering if anyone would dare call her goth-girl in this baggy grey shirt and pair of dark cotton pants.

Prompto seemed tongue-tied when she stepped out of the bathroom.

"What?" she asked.

"I think I should snap a picture. It's pretty refreshing to see you in non-fitting clothes," Prompto admitted.

"Are you for real?!"

"You rock pretty much anything you wear, Cin, but that's a fresh look on you. And it's my clothes. I'm bound to like it."

She blushed ever so slightly and it showed on the pictures he took, much to his amusement. They ate some left-overs and snuggled on his couch to talk the night away. The investigation and the Moonlaugh festival were entirely left out, phones forgotten back in the kitchen, the humming of Lestallum's streets the only background noises to their talk. Cindy's wounded foot was propped up on a pile of cushions on the side table—the only real discomfort of the night, except maybe for the unease of allowing themselves to get this close.

The limits were still unclear, but Cindy was grateful that Prompto never forgot her name, unlike her grandfather. She leaned into Prompto just a little more, her back to his chest, his breath to her ear, allowing herself to feel small in his arms, but also safe and warm.

"This feels so cozy, I could fall asleep like this," she admitted.

"Feel free to do so," he whispered to her, kissing the side of her head.

Wherever they were, the Belles drifted off to a peaceful sleep. They certainly needed it for the challenges ahead. Reeve Tuesti might have been sleeping in a cell, but there were still a few hundred assassins on the streets…

To be continued…

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a short fic, focusing on one single investigation. I think we will have 7 to 8 chapters in total, but nothing is set in stone yet. There’s only one more character from Once Upon A Time joining us for the ride, but you can expect more surprises along the way.
> 
> I would like to thank my beta for his help with this! 
> 
> If you liked the story and are curious for more, be sure to let me know. As always, I work on feedback.


End file.
